Brothers Apart
by nightmares06
Summary: Sam was hit with a curse when he was 10 and Dean was 14. Unable to find him or his attacker anywhere when the dust settled, John and Dean Winchester were forced to give him up for dead. Unbeknownst to them, Sam was saved and adopted into a new family, and they've trained him to take care of himself as best he can in the world. Until someone familiar comes to stay at his motel...
1. Captured

**Background:** In this fic, Sam was hit with a witches curse when he was 10 and Dean was 14. Unable to find him or his attacker anywhere when the dust settled, John and Dean Winchester were eventually forced to give him up for dead. Unbeknownst to them, Sam was saved from the witch and adopted into a new family, and they've trained him to take care of himself as best he can in the world, and protected him from the witches gaze all these years. And now...

* * *

><p><strong>August, 2005<strong>

Sam stood at the entrance to the motel room, surreptitiously scanning to make sure he was alone. The last thing he needed was to get captured by a human on one of his morning forays. Neither of his adopted parents approved of his choice to explore the motel during the day. But he'd found that when a room was vacant, humans weren't likely to 'check in' in the morning or early afternoon. For the most part, people would start to arrive in the early evening and night. It was incredibly rare to see anyone sooner. So, he kept an eye out to be safe, but always did his run through of the motel rooms during the day. It made him stand out in the family, of course. Everyone else stuck to nighttime runs for supplies unless they were desperate. But he would stand out no matter what, simply because of where he came from.

Once he was satisfied the room was indeed vacant, he darted in, keeping close to the wall and hugging the shadows the whole way. With any luck, he would have the good fortune to stumble on a forgotten book. It was so long now that he'd been able to hold a book in his hands, feel the soft paper and delve into the knowledge contained within, that he was starting to forget what it even felt like. The hunger in him for more knowledge was always there, searching out more information than his adopted parents could possibly give him to satisfy that need.

The first place he focused on was along the wall the dresser was pushed against. There was enough room between it and the wall that Sam was able to easily walk through, keeping a careful eye out for any lost or discarded trinkets in the smattering of dust bunnies back there. What humans considered trash often ended up being some of the most useful items you could find for someone his size.

For instance, he had fishing line attached to his satchel, and a small fishhook hanging down from it - both kept in case he needed to climb down from any unforgiving heights. And considering he was only four inches tall, almost everything towered over him like tall cliffs, monuments of humanity. Even a simple nightstand became a harrowing climb. Those great items had been left in a room by a fisherman last August, who'd come to town for the summers catch. Sam doubted he ever even noticed that it was left behind.

Not finding anything against that wall, he slowly edged to the center of the room. It was the only place that he ever felt in danger, being too small to reach any hiding spaces if any humans came into the room. Four inches tall meant his legs were too small to outdistance any of the giant humans. He'd had some close calls in the past, and he wasn't planning on repeating those today. Or ever, if he could avoid it.

He felt a weight off his shoulders when he finally reached the edge of the bed. At least here he had some cover. Spotting a small glitter on the ground underneath the bed ahead of him, he sped up into a jog. He smiled when he reached it... a forgotten earing. Diamond, from the look of it. His adopted mother had always wanted a diamond. Such finds were rare, since diamonds were coveted by the humans. He brushed off the dust bunnies it was buried in, revealing the true luminosity of the gem, for once glad that the maids that worked the motel were for the most part, incompetent. The woman this had once belonged too probably hadn't been able to find it under all the damn dust buildup.

He tucked it into the satchel he had with him. With such a huge find, this trip was already a success. Though now he was hoping to stumble over a forgotten candy bar. Chocolate was such a rare find, it was to be savored anytime he had the chance. It was one of his fondest childhood memories. All the memories it was associated with were happy, the carefree days he'd spent side-by-side with his brother.

He continued on, reaching the nightstand that was placed in between the two looming beds. Using the phone cord that stretched down to the floor behind it, he carefully climbed up, a talent he'd honed until it became one of his best skills. He'd always been a natural climber, even before... the incident. Back in the days before he lived here with his adopted family.

He could remember happier, lighthearted days where he and his brother would test each other's limits. He'd always been the better climber, since he didn't have any fear of heights holding him back. He could easily reach the highest branches of the tree, waving carelessly at his family below. Those days had been far too short... before he discovered the truth about what their father did, and before the attack. And before being saved by his adopted parents and learning to see the world differently. It had been so long since he'd seen his true family he was starting to forget what they looked like.

Not to mention, he was so different now from that fatal day thirteen years ago he doubted they would recognize him. He might even fall into the category of creatures they hunt. And damn, that was an awful feeling to have inside.

Reaching the top, Sam hauled himself over the edge with a huff. Standing on the nightstand, he gazed around the room. From here, he could see that everything was in its place. No left or forgotten items hanging around. Grumbling to himself, he settled into a crouch for a few moments so he could rest before taking on the climb again. It was a pity he hadn't been able to hit the room before it was cleaned out by the maid. The family that had been there last had been messy livers. But they'd waited until the last minute to check out, resulting in the room being cleaned almost instantly, a bad break for Sam. At least he'd found the earring... The trip hadn't been a total waste. There would be other rooms today, other chances. He just hated wasting the time he'd spent here.

Noticing that the TV remote was sitting right next to him, he smiled. It had been so long since he had a few uninterrupted moments of peace like this, and since it was still morning he should have a good long while before anyone arrived at the motel to check in... Pushing down hard on a large red button the size of his hand, he turned on the TV. He practically jumped out of his skin when the sound boomed on, rattling straight through him to shake his bones. Hurriedly, he stomped on the volume button, turning it down to where even he could barely hear anything. Better to hear humans coming than let himself be caught off guard and captured for such a silly reason. His life wasn't worth a better sounding TV.

While browsing the channels, he stopped when he found a movie he remembered watching with his brother back when they were young. He smiled at the memories it brought to the surface. Settling down, he took in_Godzilla vs. Mothra_ in all its glory. And at this size, the TV in the room, even at a distance, was almost movie theater sized. Another experience he hadn't been able to enjoy since being downsized all those years ago. All he was missing was the popcorn.

For a while, he didn't pay any mind to how much time passed, caught up in both the movie and his memories of the last time he'd seen it. Then he heard a worrying sound. The familiar sound of an engine stopped right outside. He heard a car door creak open, then slam shut. Standing quickly, he glanced around, making sure he hadn't left anything behind that would point to his presence. A dark shadow fell across the entrance. Hearing a key jingle in the lock and the door start to creak open, he grabbed the phone cord, swinging himself off fast to get out of sight. Once hanging, he froze when he heard the door slam shut. No need to alert the human that anyone was there. If he was careful he could still get away undetected. He'd just have to get down from the nightstand and lay low until the human left or went to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done that, and it probably wouldn't be his last. As long as he made it through today.

The human was on the phone when he came in. "Yeah, Dad. I'm not seeing anything going on in this town. If you can send me something more to go on than just coordinates, I'd appreciate it. I need to know that you're alright, dammit! Just... give me a sign, anything... at least check your voicemail for once and get back to me!" Huge boots stomped into the room, the trembling ground matching the annoyance in the humans tone.

Sam almost slipped off the cord in surprise when a huge bang echoed through the room. Carefully he peered around the edge, nerves on edge from all the unexpected motion in the room. He saw the huge shadow of the human walking away from a duffle bag carelessly left on the floor. The banging noise must have been him tossing it on the floor. When the human hung his phone up, Sam could see him glance around the room, sharp green eyes taking in every detail. Sam ducked out of sight again when the human's eyes crossed over his hiding place. The look in them was so intense he was surprised when the human didn't notice him right away. It was like the human was _expecting_ someone to be lurking in the room, a complication Sam wasn't prepared for. Humans never reacted that way - they were always completely self-absorbed in their own little worlds to notice anything happening right under their feet. Sam gulped. Getting out of here might be harder than he thought.

He was tall, even for a human, wearing a thick leather jacket and dark, dirty blond hair. From where he was hiding, that was all Sam could make out. The human tossed the jacket onto the bed the moment he was off the phone. "Huh." The human went over to the TV, sounding amused. "Wonder if the maid's a _Godzilla_ fan..." He turned up the volume.

Sam's hands were starting to ache from hanging in place so long. With the human's attention on the TV across the room, he decided his chance had come. It was now or never. He started to carefully climb down, hand over hand. He went even slower than before to avoid making any unnecessary noises that might alert the human that he was there. As long as he was out in the open like this, he was vulnerable.

Huge, booming footsteps suddenly came closer to the nightstand, shaking Sam's entire world. Brief panic rose up in him as he grabbed a thick splinter sticking out of the nightstand for balance. He froze in place. His heart pounded in his ears with the human so close. The human was tall enough he might be able to see Sam by just glancing in the right direction... if that happened, Sam would be screwed. No buts about it. He heard the loud jingle of keys being dropped on the table above him, and a lamp far overhead lit up the room, illuminating his hiding spot along with everything else. Sam blinked rapidly in the sudden light, temporarily blinded. A loud squeak came from the bed when the human sat down right next to his hiding place, leaning back against the pillows near the nightstand.

_Shit,_ he thought to himself. _Now what? Climb and he might see me. Stay here and I might fall. And he might see me anyway. Great choices._ He peered around the edge at the human again. The human's back was turned to him, and from what Sam could tell, he was taking off his boots at that moment. He started edging down the cord again, taking advantage of the human's distraction. _Not a sound... _he encouraged himself silently. If only he hadn't gotten so distracted watching the movie, losing track of time...

When he was less than a foot away from the floor, his hand, sweaty from nerves and fear, slipped on the cord. It twisted around his arm, wrapping painfully around his wrist. Gasping at the unexpected jolt, he reflexively let go, only realizing his mistake midair. He slammed onto the ground a few seconds later with a small "Uff!" favoring his hand. At the very least, he must have sprained it, the way it had been twisted. On the bright side, he hadn't broken anything when he fell. One of the few perks of being so small and light.

As he hauled himself painfully back to his feet, he heard the human start moving. "Who's there?" A deep voice called, drowning out the TV.

Sam froze.

Massive footsteps came closer, shaking the ground around him. The dust on the ground rose up in a small cloud, disturbed by the vibrations. A sound Sam recognized from his former life as a gun being cocked echoed in the still room.

_Who the hell cocks a gun at a thump against the ground?_ Sam balked, backing away from the edge of the nightstand, still hoping to evade detection. His hopes of getting out of there in one piece were dwindling fast. _Just my luck, stuck in the same room as a paranoid, gun-toting nutjob..._

Desperately, he wished there was a crack underneath the nightstand for him to hide under. No matter what direction he picked to run, there was a half foot gap between the nightstand and either of the beds where he'd be visible and vulnerable. This was one of the worst places in the room to get trapped, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. And a human that knew he was there. A chill ran up his spine at the hopelessness of his situation.

"Hello?" Came the voice again, softer but closer to Sam's hiding spot this time. Sam tried to silence his footsteps, slowly distancing himself from where the voice was coming from. Maybe the human would think he'd imagined it...

His train of thought was cut off when something massive grabbed him from behind unexpectedly. The human must have reached around the nightstand while he was lost in his thoughts! Not to mention that he'd heard the human on the other side seconds before... _Smart, very smart... that way I wouldn't see him coming._

His satchel and the items inside dug into his back, compressed into him by fingers as long as his entire body was tall as they clenched shut around him, and far more powerful. A wave of helplessness and fear hit Sam, when he felt the sheer power in the fingers closed around him... this was far worse than his last close call. He had only been spotted that time, by a kid no one believed, thankfully.

Sam gasped in pain as the pressure increased, writhing to try and free his arms before the human could see what he'd caught. The wrist he'd injured falling was twisted even farther in the overpowering grasp, shoved harshly against his ribs. He'd already failed one of the first and most important lessons his adopted father had taught him growing up... 'Never let a human get their hands on you.' Once they did, it was almost impossible to escape, simply because of the sheer size difference. And this human was larger than most, making Sam's chances of escape plummet even further... If only he could get his knife out, he might at least have a fighting chance to escape...

And then it was too late. The grip solidified around him and he was yanked backwards, out from behind the nightstand and into open air.

Blinking as the bright, unfiltered light of the room hit him, Sam realized his eyes had to adjust to the new light. A huge voice echoed around him, deeper than he thought possible. "Son of a _bitch..._ what the Hell _are_ you?"

Still struggling to free either of his arms, Sam finally brought his eyes into focus in the light. Two huge green eyes were only inches away from him, sharp, dangerous eyes that almost seemed to be able to see right through him. Sam tried to jerk away with a shocked gasp at how close he was, but was held motionless by the powerful fist. The human was crouched on the floor, one hand on the ground, still clutching the handgun, the other hand propped up on an elbow, wrapped around Sam.

Sam was only suspended a few inches in the air at most, thankfully. The floor wasn't far under his trapped feet. At least he'd survive if he managed to get out of the grip of the fingers from this height. He still held out some hope of escape. His entire line of sight was taken up by the human... he was so big it was unreal, like staring up at a living wall. Since being cursed, Sam had never been this close to a human to fully appreciate how much height he'd lost and exactly how small he really was in comparison. Complete avoidance was the best way to survive in this world when you're so small. His heart dropped at the knowledge that his fate was out of his own hands.

Sam took in the shock on the humans face briefly. Not many humans had ever seen people as small as Sam, and it didn't seem like this guy was any exception. And truthfully, Sam's face probably had the same shock painted all over it. He'd never gotten caught like this... completely helpless and with no way out, no hope of escape. The biggest problem he'd run into before today was being spotted from afar. He'd gotten out of that room long before the kid was able to convince anyone of what he'd seen and had stayed away from that room until long after they were gone, just to be safe. This time, he'd been overconfident, assured of his escape if anyone came into the room. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If his arms were free, he'd slap himself in the face for being so overconfident and letting his guard down like that.

For a long moment, Sam and the human stared at each other in silence, faces unconsciously echoing the same expression of disbelief.

Between the two of them, the human was the first to get his voice back. "Where did you come from?" The huge eyes darted up and down Sam's small frame, some of the anger fading with surprise at the unusual find. Sam's fear didn't go down at all. He knew a human, angry or not, was incredibly dangerous to him. Some of the pressure on his back released as the human loosened his grip. Sam gasped in a breath of fresh air with the pressure gone from his lungs, renewing his struggles. The fingers still kept his arms and legs in a solid hold, though. The grip was so strong that every effort, every move that Sam made seemed so small and inconsequential the human barely noticed them.

"Struggling's not gonna do you any good there, pint size." A half-smile quirked at the human's mouth. So close to the human, the huge voice drowned out Sam's train of thought, reinforcing his fears. Hesitantly, he met the huge green eyes that were far too close for comfort, his struggles dying down in resignation. The intense glare in them almost made him look away again, fearful of what was going to become of him now.

The human shifted position, clicking the safety back on his gun without looking and letting it drop to the floor with a bang beside him in favor of freeing his hand. One of the fingers trapping Sam relaxed its hold enough for him to pull out his good arm, unfortunately without his knife, which was still being crushed into his side by another finger. His injured arm was still twisted painfully against his ribs.

Before he could try anything the other hand reached for him, dwarfing Sam's tiny body with its shadow. Fingers closed curiously around his free hand and arm. A callused thumb brushed against his jacket sleeve, surprisingly gentle. It stretched out his arm to its full extent, careful to not push too hard. Sam held his breath, feeling the ridges on the humans skin rub against his far more delicate arm with surprising accuracy. It was surreal.

"No way," the human muttered softly, eyes wide and full of curiosity as he held the tiny arm, carefully examining Sam's almost microscopic fingers.

Sam stopped struggling completely, heart in his throat. He realized there was nothing he could do to free himself while he was trapped like this. For the moment he was completely at this stranger's mercy, unable to do anything to save himself. The fingers that were closed around his arm were massive and unyielding, far stronger than Sam could ever hope to fight against, never mind the fist that was still clenched around the rest of him. He fought against any desire to flinch away, not wanting to injure his good arm with pointless gestures. Who knew how the human might react, and his arm was so much smaller than the finger and thumb restraining it, the human could snap it purely by accident. He hated the feeling of helplessness that overcame him with this realization.

So far at least, the human simply seemed curious. And slightly awed at Sam's size. After all, the hands weren't crushing him yet. It was a start.

A moment later Sam found himself being lowered a bit more to the floor while the human shifted into a more comfortable position. The intense greens squinted at Sam. "Where the hell did you come from? And what _are_you? Can you talk?"

Sam still hadn't managed to get his voice back from the shock of being grabbed. While the huge man shifted in place, still flat against the floor, Sam was distracted by a small amulet that slipped out of his shirt. Sam's mouth went dry. It was far larger than the last time he'd seen it, half the length of his arm now, easily, whereas he'd once held it in the palm of his hand, a lifetime ago, but he'd recognize it anywhere... Looking up into those intense and intimidating greens that were suddenly so damn familiar, Sam could feel his heart stop.

_It can't be... It's just not possible... how can he be so big now..._

He blinked his small hazel eyes up at the human in disbelief. Unable to manage more than a shocked whisper, he stuttered out "D-D-Dean?"

His brother.

The human's eyes widened at his utterance. The massive fingers went slack around him as the human's mouth dropped open in surprise. "What?" He gasped, blinking rapidly.

Sam slammed into the ground, unable to catch his balance in time. He groaned with pain when he tried to stop his fall with his bad hand. Rocketing to his feet, he slowly backed away, keeping an eye on the human's free hand and clutching his injured wrist, which felt like it was on fire now that the pressure was gone from it. The human seemed too shell-shocked to respond to Sam's sudden freedom, lowering his hands to the ground.

As soon as he recovered, Sam wasted no time. No matter _who_ this human was, he wouldn't be safe until he was out of sight, out of reach. That had been drilled into his head for over thirteen years now, and he knew how true it was. Back in control of his own destiny, away from giant, crushing hands and dangerous humans.

Turning fast, he ran for the bed, intending to reach a small hideaway his parents had made years ago. There was a deep exclamation of surprise behind him at his dash, shaking the air itself. He didn't look back, afraid of what he'd see. Hands reaching for him, fingers grabbing at him... he didn't want to know. There was a small escape path behind the bed if he could just get there.

"Wait! Come back!" He heard the human shout. But Sam didn't slow down until he was out of the room, using a small crawlway to escape.

* * *

><p>Standing near the motel room, she gazed at the familiar black car parked outside it, a smile curling up her ancient lips. It had been such a long time since she'd last seen that car, she'd almost forgot what it looked like. But now, her chance had once again come. To finish the job she'd begun so long ago, foiled by a hunter and his brats.<p>

She'd long suspected that the child her spell had hit had still been in the area, since his family had chased her down so ruthlessly until she managed to shake them off her trail at last. They wouldn't have been able to do that if they found the child and the condition he was in.

The torture she'd endured afterwards had been devastating, every molten lash burning into her the depth of her failure. A simple job and she'd failed to do it. And she was chased out of her own hunting grounds by the bastards.

But now, with any luck she might be able to make up for all of that. A simple call to her master to tell him who'd wandered back into her web - _Dean Winchester, the boy that got away_ - and she would be able to take him easily. The last time she'd been caught off guard. She hadn't expected such resistance from such a young boy, or such a fast response from his father. Every other child she took cried and hid. Dean had fought back. Even little Sammy had given his best, before her spell had caught him.

What she couldn't figure out was where he'd gone. One second he'd been lying next to her shoe, collapsed out of his brother's line of sight, and the next the father had come in and attacked her. When she'd fought him off and checked for Sammy again, he'd been gone.

Maybe, with his brother back, she'd be able to lure him out of hiding once more.

The smile that crossed her face at this thought was horrific.

* * *

><p>Sam stumbled while going back to his home. He was still recovering from everything that had happened, the fall, hurting his wrist, almost being crushed in a hand bigger than his entire body... The residual shaking from the close call hadn't worn off yet. <em>There's no way that's really Dean... It's been at least thirteen years since I saw him last, and he and Dad travel everywhere. They never go somewhere more than once. The world is too big.<em> It was just such a foreign thought that his brother would come back to this motel after all this time, he couldn't let himself believe it. _And I'm too small... _the thought alone was painful. It had been years since he'd thought that way. He'd become used to this life. Even happy, after so many years spent this way.

He couldn't stop shaking from his close encounter. Feeling the huge fingers curled around him, knowing there was nothing he could do to save himself... it was a sobering reminder of everything he'd lost so long ago. Dean or not, the human could have easily crushed or captured him, with him helpless the whole time. After all it's not like Dean would have expected to find his brother at four inches tall... It wasn't his fault he'd grabbed Sam, anyone would have done the same. Sam's shoulders slumped. What a great thought.

All Sam had for self-defense was his silver knife from his birthday so long ago... great for defending against mice and bugs, not so great for defending against a human twenty times his size. _Death by paper cuts,_ he thought to himself wryly. He didn't have the power to stop a single finger, never mind a full grown human. He wished that night so long ago had gone differently... that their Dad had shown up to save him, or the witch hadn't tracked them down to the motel room...

When Sam had originally got hit by the curse, it had knocked him out for over a week. By the time he woke up and remembered what was going on, the family that had saved him from the witch had lost track of the other humans he'd been with. They were too busy trying to avoid notice in the aftermath, since they would be in danger if anyone at the motel got a whiff of them. Especially a hunter like Sam's dad, considering how he felt about anything supernatural. Not to mention pest control, full of people who would happily wipe out any 'pests' from the motel, even if they were harmless.

Once he was well enough, Sam had searched every corner of the motel, but had never caught a glimpse of his father or his brother anywhere. Eventually, he'd had to accept that they'd left him behind. That they probably thought he was dead. And he might as well have been as far as they were concerned.

For a while he'd hoped they'd come back. Even if it was just for a night. He'd kept a careful eye on all the massive cars in the parking lot, staring for the familiar black Impala, with the recognizable engine purr he'd grown up too. Hoping to see his father and brother walk into a room, even though they'd be unfathomably immense compared to him now, they were still his family. They could help him, he knew it. They _would_ help him.

In the end, his adopted father had put a stop to that, telling him it was far too dangerous for a child his size to go outside and watch for the cars. There were any number of dangers out there... humans, birds, cats... all things he wouldn't have had a problem with before this curse. He had finally stopped searching and begun to adjust to his new life, resigned to his fate.

Finally reaching the small hole where his family had made themselves a small hidden entrance, Sam pushed aside a bit of siding. The home was hidden under the floorboards of the least used room in the motel, so they were almost never disturbed by humans above them. Three tunnels, one on each side except the side facing the room they were under lead away, giving them the ability to go almost anywhere in the motel undetected. And wherever the tunnels didn't reach, the ventilation system did.

Which gave him an idea for later to check the human out undetected. He _needed_ to know if it was Dean. Somehow.

Without getting himself captured again, of course.

Sam pushed aside a flat piece of wood his mother had propped up against the entryway opening to keep out pests. The room was softly lit from the cracks in the ceiling, leaking in a bit of sunlight from the motel room above. It gave the area a peaceful, relaxing feel.

The small house was furnished from years of scraping by. Some of it had been made from bits and pieces of things they found around the motel, like a laundry basket made from a cut-up plastic cup. Other parts they'd scavenged from an abandoned dollhouse they'd been lucky enough to find. Sam's bed, the kitchen table, the desk he had in his room had all been from that, along with the dishes they were currently using. He liked that. It felt more familiar, more like his old life when he used those items without knowing how much he'd miss them. Before he knew how lucky he'd been.

Glancing around, Sam called out, "Mom! Dad! You guys home?"

Though he called them his parents, in truth it was only out of respect. They'd saved his life all those years ago, giving him a second chance in a world turned hostile. Without them, he had not doubt that he would have died, either at the witches hand or any of the various threats to a person his size... humans, animals, heights... They'd raised him as their own, adopting him as a son and treated him as close as family. He saw no reason to not do the same. Though he remembered his true father well, it had been years since he'd seen him last, and now he lived in a world apart. He wasn't even human anymore. And of his true mother... he had only been 6 months old when she'd passed away. Dean had told him what happened. In Sam's heart, he couldn't help feeling that it had been his fault how she'd died. Even though there was nothing he could have done, she'd died over his crib. Protecting him to the end.

He had no memories of what she was like.

"In here, darling!" His mother's voice rang out from the living room.

Sam hid a smile at her voice, knowing how excited she'd be when he showed her the earing he'd found. On the other hand, his adopted dad would be pissed when he discovered how Sam had been injured. He was damn lucky the human had opened his fist like that, giving Sam an opportunity for escape. Still... _was it really Dean? Why else would he have let me go?_ A nagging feeling was tugging at him. He had to know for sure if it was his brother or not. That much he knew.

His mother bustled around the corner. Spotting the way he was favoring his arm, she gasped aloud. "Sam, what have you been getting up too?!" She took hold of his hand, dexterous fingers checking for breaks.

"Mom!" He tried to pull his hand out of her grip unsuccessfully. She grabbed his wrist, pulling him reluctantly into the kitchen, where all the first aid supplies were kept. Sam couldn't break free of her grip, anchored as she was on his bad hand.

She inspected it in the light coming down from above. "Just a sprain..." she muttered to herself, as she pulled out some gauze they'd found a year back. Her eyes met his. "How did this happen?" She asked.

"Yea, that's what I'd like to know." His adopted father came around the wall, following them into the kitchen.

"Uhh... I was out, checking some of the empty rooms..." Sam said, suddenly nervous. He'd never been captured before.

"You've never gotten hurt like this before," his dad said, coming around. It figured that'd be the first thing he'd hone in on. "In all your years here." There were many times Sam had compared his adopted dad to his true father. In looks, they couldn't be more dissimilar. Whereas his true father was rugged and muscled, his adopted dad was all sinew and bone, no fat on him at all from years spent scaling around human sized furniture and fixtures. Where his father had dark brown hair and matching eyes, his adopted dad had blond hair and blue eyes just like his adopted mom. When it came to caution and carelessness, they were the same. All he heard when he wanted to go out exploring was 'It only takes one mistake!' If both his dads ever met at the same level, he thought they'd either get along great or try to kill each other.

Sam met those piercing blue eyes with trepidation. "I was in one of the rooms," he flinched as his mom started to wrap up the arm, "checking for anything that got left behind when a human showed up."

His mom froze. "Did... did he _see_ you?" She asked, voice quavering. It had been years since any of them had been spotted by a human.

Sam lowered his eyes. "I slipped off the nightstand and fell, that's how my hand got hurt. And he heard me fall. Grabbed me before I could get to safety."

His dad gave a hiss of fear. "How did you get away?" He knew from first-hand experience exactly how hard it was to escape a human once you were seen, having been captured when he was younger. He'd always used the tale of how he'd been locked up in a cage for weeks before being able to escape to frighten Sam away from exploring the motel.

"He, he _let me go."_ Sam raised his eyes to meet his dads. "Dad, he was wearing the necklace I gave my brother years ago... I'd recognize it anywhere." The disbelief was still there in his voice, unable to trust that the human was truly his brother after all this time. But still... he'd let Sam go. And he'd reacted to the name Dean...

His dad sat down in a chair with a thump. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, I think so. The person who originally gave me the amulet told me it was one of a kind. And I've never seen anything like it before or after." Sam pulled his hand away from his mother when she finished bandaging it up. "What do you think?"

"Sam, I think you need to be careful. Whether it's your brother or not... you're not who you used to be, or what. He could easily capture you against your will, or hurt you without ever meaning to. Humans are dangerous, period. ALL humans. And you risk all of us if you go to see him again. You need to remember that what you do here affects us all. You put more than just our family at risk if he sees you again. Think about what your actions could mean for everyone who lives in just this motel alone... more if the word gets out that we exist! Families just like ours would be hunted and captured. And killed.

"We took you in as a child, even though you were a human, and raised you as our own. Don't let us down."

Sam tucked his head against his chest, somber. He knew they were right... any human was a risk. And if any of them were captured, it could easily lead to the rest of the families being discovered. But still... the feeling that he knew the human nagged at him. Those green eyes might have been intimidating, but they were so damn familiar... He sighed. These were thoughts for later. In the meantime...

"Mom, I found something for you when I went out today." He drew open his satchel, pulling out the earring. She gasped in surprise at the size.

"Someone actually forgot this?"

"Yeah, I found it in the room the human who captured me checked into, before he got there. Not even the maid noticed it under all the dust age never cleans." He couldn't stop the grin from covering his face at her obvious excitement. He handed it over. She rubbed the gem, brushing off the dust he'd missed earlier.

She took it over to a box they used as a table and placed it down. "Later we'll have to see if we can't get the gem off the stud. We can use the stud for other things." She grinned. "Don't want to waste anything!"

Laughing, Sam excused himself and went to where his room was walled off from the rest of the house to empty his satchel for his next trip later on that day. Unconsciously, he rubbed his sprained wrist while he took everything in. For some reason, he felt like everything was about to change, and he wanted to remember his home like this. Adopted parents in the living room, all his stuff put away nice and neat. He had an idea that this feeling stemmed from seeing that human earlier.

He moved over to the small dollhouse desk he used most days when he had nothing to do. A little padded building block made a small seat for it. He pulled out one of the drawers, grabbing his most beloved item, next to the little silver knife his brother had made for his birthday so long ago.

A small journal.

It had been with the discarded dollhouse items they'd found in an abandoned room. So far as he could tell, it was just supposed to be a replica of the larger books that humans read. But... it was full of soft, blank pages. Even though it was a little oversized for him, about the size of an Atlas, he coveted it. Nothing else at this size was good for writing on, unless he took paper from the humans, and that was nowhere near as nice as writing in a bound book. And the little people he lived with didn't have need for such inventions as books. He dug out the tip of a pencil he kept nearby for writing. It was thick and messy, getting graphite all over his hands but it was well worth it. He used his knife to sharpen the tip so it would write fine.

He mulled over the events of that day, distractedly tapping the graphite against the desk.

If it _was_ his brother in that room... what would happen to Sam?

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

Meet... my alternate universe Supernatural. Where Sam was separated from his family when he was just a little kid, shrank down to borrower sized and raised by people that make the walls of a motel their home. Borrower!Sam has no idea that someone very familiar will be staying at his motel... This is a story of how two brothers, separated by more than just distance are suddenly thrown back together unexpectedly and how they handle it.

Inspired by _The Borrowers_ and _The Secret World of Arrietty._

This story is a lot of hurt, comfort, some fun mixed in Winchester style. I think you'll all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it

Story is rated mature for language. I know how sticky these things can get, so I'm playing it safe. There _will_ be off screen character death in it at some point. Just so you know it's coming.


	2. Rediscovery

**A/N: **Currently, my desktop computer has died, so there may be delays in updates. With any luck I will have a successful day tomorrow getting it repaired. Wish me luck.

And thanks for the nice reviews!

* * *

><p>Dean was still sitting on the floor, staring down at his hand ten minutes later. He carefully flexed the fingers, remembering how it had felt, holding the tiny person in his hand. The odd feeling of little arms and legs struggling hopelessly for freedom. Small bones more fragile than a baby birds. So damn delicate...<p>

Ever since hearing that quiet voice utter his name, sounding as shocked as he felt, all he had running through his mind was _no way, not possible. Sonovabitch, we looked everywhere for him..._ And yet, a few minutes ago, he'd been holding a tiny guy, no more than four inches tall, with a face that was so damn familiar...

_And knew him by name..._

"Sammy..." Dean uttered forlornly. He drug his hand over his face, holding his eyes closed. _My brother, I might have had my own brother in my hand and the first thing I do is almost crush him... How is any of this possible?_

_If that's Sam, how the hell is he only four inches tall? And why couldn't we find him all those years ago? I was THERE when the witch hit him. We should have been able to_ see _him._ Their Dad hadn't been around for that part though, he'd come in on the fight at the tail end, barely able to save Dean's hide from her wrath. They'd escaped with their hides intact for the most part, but when they got back to search for his little brother, there had been no sign of him anywhere. _At least now I know why..._

The witch had escaped them that day, leaving Dean and John with no answers about his little brother's fate. All these years... had Sam been here all that time - abandoned by his family, forced to live alone?

A few more minutes like that passed, with Dean drowning in regret. If only he'd handled it differently, hadn't tried to crush the little guy, had tried maybe _talking_ to him. But he'd been so shocked all he could do was let go of the tiny body, not wanting to hurt him anymore._ And that worked out so well,_ he grumped to himself. He'd forgotten that he'd been holding the guy a few inches off the ground. When you're only four inches tall, those extra inches had to hurt to fall down. And the way little guy had been holding his hand, like it'd been injured... _Super. Might have finally found your brother after all these years apart and the first thing you do is hurt him. Some brother you are. Stellar performance, Dean. He'll probably never come back now... who would for a screw-up like you..._

When the little guy ran from him, it took everything ounce of self-control he had left to not grab at him again. Stop him from running away. But if it was his brother, the last thing he ever wanted to do was scare him more, or accidentally hurt him if he grabbed too hard. Considering he was barely the size of a finger, that could happen far too easily. And he'd seen the fear in Sam's eyes when he'd glanced up at Dean after being released, backing away fearfully, like he was afraid to take his eyes off Dean for a second.

So Dean just sat there, watching him dart back under the bed, not even chancing a look behind him to see where Dean was the moment he ran. By the time Dean had thought to peer under the bed to see where he'd gone, there was no sign of anything out of place, as though he'd imagined it all.

Stubbornly pushing away his self-flagellation, Dean hauled himself to his feet. His heart lurched when he thought about how he must look to the tiny guy, standing up. Like an actual giant from the fairy tales. He'd been so _small_ it was hard to believe it was even possible he was Sam. _Like it matters what you look like standing. He already ran from you when you were leaning on the ground. Of COURSE he'd run from you standing._ His shoulders slumped down, knowing how unlikely it was he'd ever see the guy again, whether it was Sam or not. Who would want to go back to the place where they'd almost been captured and crushed?

He pushed the bed away from the wall, dropping back to the ground to see if he could find where the guy had escaped to. He ran his fingers over the ground carefully, finding nothing out of the ordinary for a few moments. Spotting an almost invisible line on the wall, he leaned in closer. It only stretched up about five inches from the floor. His fingers turned out to be too thick to be able to grip it, sliding harmlessly off.

With a grunt, he rolled to the side, pulling one of his smaller knives out of his pocket. Holding it steady, he managed to slip it under the tear, prying it free. His eyes widened as he got a good look inside, staring into a tiny dark tunnel that stretched on into the insides of the motel. Curiously, he reached his hand inside. It only slipped a few inches in before getting stuck in the tiny area._ What the Hell is going on at this motel? _He thought._ Was this here the last time we visited?_

He let the tiny flap close up. Standing up, he stared down at how small it was. If he blocked it off, he might not see the little guy again. Something inside of him cringed at the thought of it being his brother, but something in him wouldn't give up the idea, the possibility of seeing Sam again.

If it wasn't Sam, he'd handle it then.

He pushed the bed back against the wall, leaving the tiny opening alone. He knew where it was. For now that was enough. He wondered if there were any other entrances into the bedroom... he would have to check out the rest of the room, make sure there wasn't any other secret passages in or out.

In the meantime, he still had a case to figure out. With an unhappy groan, he sat down at the table in the room, pulling out his laptop. Might as well start some research on the actual 'case' his dad had him tracking... if only the man would _call _him and let him know what the hell was going on in town, it would all be so much easier... And maybe the little guy would come back while he was working... Dean felt his heart leap at the possibility that after all these years Sam was still alive...

_Sammy..._

* * *

><p>Hours after being captured and escaping from the human, Sam found himself wandering through the walls of the motel.<p>

He'd been hoping to get some time to himself to think everything over... The revelation of his brother's return had all his emotions twisted in a ball and scraped against a splintered wall. He was having trouble distancing himself from the problem like he usually did.

If it _was _his brother, he didn't see any other path. He wasn't willing to let Dean just leave, lose his only chance at reuniting with his true family. No matter Dean's size. Despite everything that had happened, he knew in his heart if Dean knew who he was, he'd never let anything happen to Sam. Even though Sam couldn't even be called a human anymore.

At the same time, he could still_ feel_ those huge fingers wrapped around him, crushing him ruthlessly, helplessly into the fist. _Anything_ could have happened... Anything at all. Dean _was_ a hunter, after all. The family business. If he'd seen Sam as a threat, it would have been all over. The way he was now, Sam couldn't hope to stop a human. Even after all his training with Dean growing up, and his years learning how to survive down at this size during the rest of his life, he was simply outsized.

Sam found himself next to a ventilation shaft. Giving a huge sigh, he started to haul himself up the steep wall, using a long thread his adopted father had placed there years ago, somehow managing it even with the injured wrist. Once he reached the top, he was in the ceiling of the motel, able to move from room to room without any fear of being seen. Humans tended to write off noises in the ceiling as mice, or the building settling. He just kept a look out for any mouse traps and made sure to step lightly while he traveled.

He found himself traveling in the direction of the humans - of Dean's - motel room. He couldn't stop himself. Up here in the ceiling he could observe the human without fear. He wouldn't have to worry about being captured again so long as he stayed up here out of reach.

The journey back to the room took him a long time. An hour of traveling through an enclosed, metal world. The air only came on once during his trip there, blowing harshly past his jacket. He pulled his hands into his sleeves, wrapping his arms around his chest for warmth. He knew from experience it wouldn't stay on long this time of year, luckily. Summer had just ended and the motel owner saved money where he could. But still, he wished (not for the first time) that his jacket was warmer than it was. The material was too thin to truly block out the cold breeze.

He finally came to the vent above the human's room. Dropping down next to it, he froze for a moment, waiting to see if the human had heard the small metal _clang_ he'd caused. When he didn't hear any movement from the room below, he crawled up to the edge, peering through one of the ice cold slits into the room.

Far below him, he could see the human sitting calmly at the table in the room. Newspapers were strewn across the table, thick, old books piled up nearby. The glow of a laptop screen illuminated the table. At the moment the human was typing away, occasionally scribbling in a notebook he had laying on top of the newspaper clippings. He didn't seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Sam sighed gratefully. He'd been worried the human would be able to hear even that, after the way Sam had been caught earlier. The guy was perceptive and _fast_ for someone that size.

Sam sat up there for a long time, watching the human work while lost in thoughts of his own. It_ had_ to be his brother... Sam could remember their father doing much the same thing, time and time again whenever he found a case to work, even before Sam had discovered what their father did for a living. Occasionally he could overhear the human mutter to himself while he worked... sometimes on what he was reading, other times smatterings of familiar song lyrics that teased at the edge of Sam's memory. Sam could feel himself relaxing. It all felt so_ familiar._Like coming home again.

But he couldn't think that way. The human was still dangerous, Dean or not, especially if he thought Sam was a threat. He needed to keep that in mind so he didn't end up captured again. He had a feeling it wouldn't be so easy to escape the human the second time around.

On occasion, the human would glance over at the cell phone laying quietly next to his arm. Sam remembered the phone call the human had been on when he came into the room. Sam had been slightly distracted at the time, but he remembered the human had been leaving a message for 'Dad.' Realizing this might mean that his father was still alive and well, a content feeling came over him. So many years he'd been like this, worrying all the time that his father or brother might had been injured or killed in a hunt, it was a relief to know they were both alright. If only they knew that he was alright as well.

While he was sitting there, a beetle scuttled by his hand. Sam tensed for a moment, then relaxed when he saw it was no larger than his hand. Small beetles like that never really bothered his family. What they had issues with were the cockroaches that always managed to get in, and spiders. Nothing the motel did kept them out, and these days it seemed like they'd given up on the whole concept.

Sam remembered one time when a cockroach managed to get into the little house he lived in with his adopted patents. His mother had been shrieking the entire time, his dad chasing it with a needle and Sam flailing a cloth bigger than him in the hope it would scare the cockroach out before it found their meager food supply. He smirked. Good times.

Eventually, the human got up. Sam ducked out of sight, not wanting to tempt fate any more than he already was. After grabbing a few items from around the room, the human left. A familiar purr came from outside. _The Impala,_ Sam thought to himself excitedly. _No other car sounds like that._ It was the same sound he heard in his memories, from all those long road trips they took every week, only louder and more rumbling at this size. He hadn't expected to hear that sound ever again. _It_ has _to be Dean..._

Sam got up, grabbing his satchel and pulling away from the vent. He _needed_ to talk to the human. There was nothing else he could do. He needed to know the truth, even if it meant risking his life.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Sam found himself standing back down on the floor of the motel room. The human had returned to the room not long ago, about a half hour after Sam had reached it. While waiting, he'd made sure he was prepared to confront the human, putting his knife in an easier to reach place in his jacket, just in case.<p>

At the same time, he knew it was impossible to really prepare for this. What could he honestly do if he got caught again? Stab a hand that could envelop his entire body with a knife smaller than a needle? He'd be kidding himself if he thought he'd have a chance if it came to that. He just had to hope this didn't go south...

From where he was hiding, he watched as the human's massive boots clomped across the floor, shaking the ground under Sam's feet. He shivered, unable to believe for a few moments that he had once been a human himself. They were so ridiculously huge! Distances that would take Sam minutes to cross took the human mere seconds, reminding him how hard escaping would be if he was wrong. He felt so small and outsized, standing all the way down on the floor like this. He was having trouble gathering his courage enough to actually confront the human.

He hadn't talked to his adopted parents about what he was doing. He didn't want to alarm them, but there was no way he was going to let what might be the one chance he'd ever have to reunite with his brother slip through his fingers because he was too scared to find out. And, he knew in his heart his adopted father would flip out the moment he so much as mentioned talking to a human, any human. Didn't matter that human happened to be his brother. Sam would end up locked in his room until the human was far away, and he couldn't risk that. Couldn't risk losing the only chance he might have to see his brother again.

He'd been sitting there frozen for at least ten minutes now, peeking out from behind the dresser the TV was sitting on. The human walked by him again, holding a pizza box in his hand he'd just received from the delivery boy. The floor trembled under Sam's feet with each impact from the massive boots. He heard a car start up outside, driving off. Taking in a few deep breaths, he tried to gather enough courage to at least_talk_ to the human with, now that they were alone. Last thing he needed was any other giants figuring into the problem.

A huge scraping sound knocked him out of his thoughts. Sam backed up towards the hidden entrance he'd come through for a few seconds before seeing that the human had just pulled out a chair to sit in. Sam crept back to the edge of the dresser, peering out again. He watched the human open up the pizza box, eating a slice of pizza out of it while he read from a computer screen that Sam could barely see peeking up from the table from where he was standing. The smell of the pizza wafted over to where Sam was standing. His stomach growled at him, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since waking up early in the morning, and it was almost night. And the smell of the pizza... it had been one of his favorite foods when he was a kid. He could feel himself practically start to drool.

A huge voice yanked him out of his pizza-dreams, almost making him dash back out of sight again. "So, you gonna just stand there and lurk all night or do you want to help me eat some of this pizza."

Sam gasped, fear filling him again. He backed farther under the dresser, feeling safer there, out of reach. _How did he hear me? I haven't made a sound..._ He realized the human was peeking at him from the corner of his eye, making it hard to tell he was actually looking at Sam. A smile twitched at the edge of his mouth. This time, Sam didn't feel any fear at the look. The massive boots scraped against the ground as the human turned towards Sam, leaning down to see him better.

Almost as though he was reading Sam's mind, the human commented, "If I hadn't known you existed from earlier, I would have never heard you. So have no fear, your ninja skills are intact. And... I was hoping you'd come back..."

Sam went to back away, worried the human would lunge for him again. Seeing this, the human's eyebrows shot up. "Wait! Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Really." He held his hands out beseechingly, probably not realizing that his hands were exactly what Sam was afraid of. "I'm not gonna hurtcha, I promise. And I won't grab you like that again. You have my word."

Startled by the pleading he heard in the voice, Sam paused, uncertain. The last time he'd been near this human, he'd nearly been crushed. His hand started to ache with sympathy pain at the thought. But still... _Can't find out who he is if you run away the second he starts talking to you... isn't this what you came here for in the first place? To _talk_ to him?_ Emboldened for a moment, he came to the edge of the dresser. He was still having trouble getting past how BIG the human was. But... he didn't feel like he was in any danger. And staying in hiding wasn't going to get him any answers. More than anything, he NEEDED to know.

He took his first brave step out into the light of the room, the carpet thick beneath his boots. Away from the safety and security of the dresser. He felt... exposed, with nothing over his head. Everything was so high up from where he was standing, towering over him. He paused once he was out from under the dresser, unwilling to go farther before he knew it was safe.

He cleared his throat tremulously, trying to not think about how close he was to those massive, crushing boots. "Who...who are you?" He called up, "and where did you get that amulet?"

The human glanced down at the amulet, face softening for a moment while he looked at it. "My little brother gave it to me." He smiled, "a long time ago." He raised his eyes back to Sam, "but then, you already knew that... didn't you, Sam."

Sam froze in the humans gaze when he heard his name slip through those lips. _It really is him... _"Dean? Is it really you?" He said, half praying, half fearing the answer. He took another step away from the safety of the dresser, without realizing what he was doing.

The edge of Dean's mouth twitched. "Yeah. It's just me, Sammy."

Sam jumped at the sound of his childhood nickname, startled. He hadn't heard that name in so many years... since the last time he'd seen Dean, in fact. He took in the huge man before him, unable to believe it was really his brother after all this time. "Dean... but... how? Why... what are you doing here?"

Cautiously, Dean stood up from the chair, kneeling down in front of his little brother. His _little_ little brother. Sam didn't miss the irony there. The whole time he was moving, Sam stayed frozen, uncertain if he should run away, body pumped full of adrenaline from the uncomfortable proximity to a human. But Dean moved slowly enough that if Sam wanted to run from him, he could. Those huge green eyes stayed locked on Sam's the whole time he was moving, somehow reassuring Sam with their steady gaze.

A massive hand landed on the ground less than a foot away from him, supporting the human's weight as he lowered himself down to Sam's level. Heart pounding, Sam's eyes flashed from the hand near him and back to Dean's eyes, afraid all over again. There was no way he could run fast enough to get away now if the human really wanted to grab him. He took a hesitant step away.

Dean smiled down at him beseechingly, eyes shining. "Before we kick off a round of Twenty Questions, why don't you come have some pizza with me. I could hear your stomach growling from across the room, and it's hot and fresh. Can't get better than that."

Sam froze for a few long moments, trying to gather his courage before answering. "Ummm... ahhh... s-sure, I guess," his voice trembling with nerves. He surprised himself by stepping a little farther out into the room, closer to Dean. Any fear he had was slowly starting to leave. Once upon a time, Dean was the one person he'd trusted more than anyone else in the world, even their father. "But..." He glanced up at how high up the table was, towering over where he was standing. Normally he wouldn't have a problem scaling it, but with his wrist injured like this...

Following Sam's line of sight, Dean frowned at how high up the table was to his little brother. His eyes chanced across Sam's hand. Feeling a tightness in his chest when he saw the bandaged hand, Dean couldn't stop the wave of guilt that crashed over him. He must have squeezed too hard when he'd grabbed Sam earlier. Hurting his own brother... Stubbornly, he pushed away the guilt and focused on Sam. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Do... do you want me to help?" He asked uncomfortably, nervous about the idea of holding Sam after how close he'd come to squashing him not so long ago.

Sam felt a bit of the irrational fear creep back into him at the idea. To willingly give a human permission to pick him up... it would be crossing a line in the sand. But... this was _Dean._ And somewhere deep inside, Sam knew Dean would never have hurt him intentionally, no matter his size. Now that Dean knew who he was, he'd be safe with him.

"As... as long as you don't grab me again," he managed to stutter out. "And... this is only because my wrist is hurt. I can get around fine on my own otherwise."

Dean nodded solemnly at that, green eyes not leaving Sam, as though he was afraid Sam might disappear again if he so much as blinked. Still moving slow enough to not startle Sam back into hiding, he carefully flattened his hand on the carpet nearby, long fingers brushing against the thick strands that reached past Sam's boots. Sam gulped at the size of the hand sitting so calmly next to him, remembering how helpless he had been not too long ago in it. He was barely taller than the length of one of Dean's fingers now. He'd be completely helpless if he was wrong about any of this. Trying to push away his doubts and the memories of being grabbed so recently, he stepped onto the palm.

His boots sank into the skin, which despite its apparent thickness was surprisingly soft. A lifeline more than half his size stretched out under his boot. Heat radiated up from the hand, and the second his boot made contact, one of the callused fingers next to him twitched in reaction. Sam felt himself jump in surprise at the unexpected movement, heart in his throat, afraid Dean was going to go back on their deal and grab him anyway. He glared up at Dean through his messy bangs, briefly forgetting the size difference in his momentary annoyance. His glare melted away when he saw the apology etched on his brother's face.

Once he was settled in the center of the palm, the fingers curled up around him. Sam knew _why _Dean did it - so he wouldn't have to worry about Sam falling off - but he still shivered at the sight, feeling smaller than ever. He was surrounded like this, with nowhere to go. There was no way for him to stop Dean if he decided to close the fist.

These thoughts faded away when the ground dropped out from under the hand. The second hand came up as a wall around the edge so he couldn't fall off. The hand that was holding Sam was tucked against Dean's stomach for support as he stood up to walk them both over to the table, his shirt rising up behind Sam like a flannel wall. Held like this, Sam felt the little confidence he had sap away. The sheer size of the chest behind him was a sharp reminder that his safety was out of his hands in this situation - and in Dean's, literally. Someone he'd seen today for the first time in over a decade. Someone he hadn't seen since they'd been the same size, so long ago.

Sam let out a gasp as he felt the air rush past him when the human started walking... _Dean, it's Dean... just your brother... you're gonna be fine..._ unprepared for the sensation of vertigo, something he'd never felt before. Each step shook him to the bone. He stumbled back against Dean's stomach, bracing himself against the solid surface with an arm. Dean didn't even seem to notice, which Sam was grateful for. He didn't want to appear any weaker than he already was in this situation. The ride was thankfully brief, as he was quickly lowered to the table next to a few scattered books and the pizza box.

The second hand lifted out of Sam's way as he scrambled off the huge palm, glad to be back on solid ground. He took a few cautious steps away from Dean as the human sat back down in his seat. He'd never felt so vulnerable and exposed like this, with nowhere to hide and so close to a human who knew exactly where he was. There was no hope of hiding here. Glancing towards the edge of the table Dean was sitting at, Sam shivered at the fact that his brother's jacket formed a massive wall in front of him, blocking the beds and the nightstand and a good portion of the room from Sam's point of view.

While Dean got settled in his chair, Sam distracted himself from where he was, checking out the books scattered casually around where he was standing. He was amazed at how many there were. Maybe if he was lucky, he could read a few before Dean left the motel. He never had much opportunity for reading anymore, but when he was growing up it had been one of his first great loves in life.

"Now! Time for some pizza," Dean said, clapping his hands and startling Sam away from the books.

Holding in the desire to jump back from the sudden sound and motion, Sam nodded mutely in response, barely able to believe that any of this was real. His brother coming back, sitting with a human that want trying to catch him... Hell, being offered _food _from someone who he knew would normally do everything he could to kill anything supernatural. Sam knew exactly how his family thought about the supernatural world, but he hoped he could get Dean to believe him that people Sam's size were no threat... everything Sam had seen of them pointed to them being identical to humans in every way but size, unlike the monsters Dean dealt with on a regular basis.

He took in the sight of the pizza box Dean was opening. All his years since being cursed, his new family had always lived off scraps. Anything forgotten or left behind by humans was up for grabs. Because of this, they never ate hot food freshly delivered or anything kept in the fridge, being too small to open it even if anything was left behind.

The human grabbed a napkin, placing it close to Sam. Sam kept a careful eye out the whole time, still unable to bring himself to fully trust Dean yet. He was just too vulnerable like this. Once the napkin was there Dean grabbed a slice, placing it on the napkin and gave Sam a look that seemed to ask if it was alright, his eyes big, round and hopeful. Like he wanted Sam's approval.

Sam stared at it for a minute, wide-eyed at the simple size of the slice. It was more than twice his size! His entire family could live off something like that for a month! He glanced up at Dean, unable to believe it was really all for him.

Dean seemed to understand his unasked question. "Help yourself. I've got plenty more where that came from," he smirked, gesturing at the box.

"T-thanks," Sam managed to respond finally. He walked onto the coarse napkin, still marveling at the pizza. If only he could eat like this all the time! Uncertain how he was supposed to eat food bigger than him, he pulled his knife out of his jacket, figuring he'd just slice off a piece and go from there. Before he bent down to get the first piece, Dean's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Confused for a moment, Sam glanced up at Dean and saw him staring wide-eyed at the knife in his hand. Realizing why Dean was looking at it, he smiled, holding it up. Any doubts of who Dean was disappeared like morning dew in the sun. "Yeah, it's the knife you made me for my birthday, right before I got separated from you and Dad." He tilted it in the light so Dean could see.

Dean leaned down, reaching his hand forward slowly. "May I?"

At first, Sam backed away from the approaching hand, still nervous about the whole situation. When he realized Dean wasn't about to snatch him up, he took a few steps forward, gently putting the knife down on one of the outstretched fingers. There was such a huge difference in size between them now, it barely filled the tip of Dean's finger.

During all these years separated from his true family, the knife had become his prize possession. The only reminder of a life lost in time, not to mention how damn useful it was. No one else at this size had such a well-crafted weapon, instead forced to rely on simple objects like needles and tacks for protection. He'd used it many times, even had his life saved once by it.

Dean had always been clever with his hands, able to build his own guns from scrap, always helping their Dad repair the Impala, making Sam this knife... Sam had always wished he was half as good at any of those things. He'd been far better at research, school, studying... pretty much the polar opposite of Dean. This knife, for so long, had been the only connection he had to his brother. The only reminder of a life lost in time.

Sam watched as Dean lifted the tiny knife up to his shining eyes almost reverently, huge greens taking in every detail. He smiled down at the knife. "I almost forgot about this," he said, almost like a kid again from the way his face lit up with excitement. He raised his eyes to Sam again, giving him a crooked grin. "Glad to see you still have it after all this time."

Sam accepted it back from the finger when Dean lowered it back down to him, carefully running his hand over the blade. He snorted, going back over to his slice of pizza while they talked. "I wouldn't be alive without it. Of COURSE I still have it. Best present I ever got as a kid." He relaxed at the proud smile that crossed Dean's face at that, feeling truly safe at last where he was.

Now that he was a little more relaxed (and feeling a little braver), he got up the courage to ask one of the questions that had been nagging at him since the afternoon. "Oh, I was curious. Do you have the Impala? I could've sworn I heard it outside the room earlier. Nothing else sounds quite like it."

"Oh yeah. Dad gave her to me for my sixteenth birthday. Said since I'd already drawn blood on my hunts he couldn't think of a better gift for my coming of age. Still not sure if he was completely joking."

"Huh," Sam said. "I never thought he'd give that car up."

Dean smirked. "Neither did I, but I'm glad he did. She's the smoothest running ride you'll ever find."

Sam glanced longingly at the pizza, realizing exactly how hungry he was after an entire day away from home. Taking a seat next to the piece of pizza, he sliced off the end of it, trying to not get sauce all over the place. He wiped the blade of his knife down on the napkin next to where he was sitting, making sure it was completely clean before slipping it back into its hiding place in his jacket. He happily mmm'ed his way through the slice. "I haven't had this since I was a kid," he mumbled to himself between messy bites of melted cheese and warm sauce. Best. Food. Ever.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **You know there was no way Sam could have stayed away... not while it might be his brother in that room...

And a bit about how Dean feels about this screwy situation. Even the slightest possibility of his brother being alive gives him such hope.


	3. Past Regrets

Dean couldn't stop staring at the tiny Sam Winchester sitting cross legged on the table next to a slice of pizza far bigger than him.

It was just so unreal.

Not twelve hours ago he'd believed his brother lost, dead years ago. Killed by a witch on the biggest failure of a case in his father's long, storied hunting career.

And now here he was, thirteen years later, sharing pizza with a four inch tall version of his baby brother.

Man, his life was _weird._

For the moment, Sam was paying him no mind, completely intent on the pizza he was devouring with a single minded intensity. He must've not been kidding when he said the last time he'd had pizza was when he was a kid. Dean hadn't seen anyone eating pizza with such determination before.

Dean found himself wondering how Sam had lived all these years. Easily thirteen years now, surviving at only a few inches in height, still living in the motel where his father and brother had lost him at. The motel they'd abandoned him at. It was impressive, to say the least. But at the same time, incredibly upsetting when he thought of how Sam must have felt when he realized he was alone, abandoned by his only family.

Dean felt fear clench his chest, remembering how close he'd been to going to a different motel. He'd had no desire to be haunted by the personal ghosts he'd left here, with the memory of the brother he'd lost plaguing his footsteps. But if he'd gone elsewhere, he'd never have found Sammy. Never seen his brother, or known he was still alive. Silently, Dean thanked the fates for bringing him back here. He couldn't imagine a worse fate than never finding Sam.

Dean took the opportunity while Sam was distracted to observe the tiny guy. Aside from being four inches tall, he seemed well put together. He was as fit as a hunter, no sign of any extra padding on him at all. Surviving so small was probably a workout on a daily basis. His hair was decently long, bangs partially covering his face from time to time. If they were the same size Dean would be tempted to take a pair of shears to it, honestly. His clothes weren't far off from what Dean himself was wearing... tiny jeans, boots, a little jacket that was well worn with a barely visible grey undershirt underneath... along with a bag that had string looped around it and a tiny fishhook. Probably had more tools in the satchel. That must be what Sam meant when he said he didn't need any help getting around. Dean couldn't stop from smiling at the thought of his tiny brother scaling up the table. He had no doubt Sam could if he set his mind to it.

Sam sensed his scrutiny after a few moments.

"What?" He asked defensively, shifting nervously under Dean's gaze.

"Nothin,' just... happy you're alright." Dean smiled for his brother's sake, shifting topic quickly. "How... what happened back then? How did you survive?"

For a long moment, Sam stared down at the napkin he was sitting on. "I don't really remember. I was with you, and she was coming at us, and I remember being really scared. You were yelling at me to 'Get down! Get outta the way, Sammy!' And the next thing I remember is this big bright flash of light, and I was out. The next thing I remember is waking up in a little house, everything slightly off from what you'd expect, with my two rescuers sitting nearby. I found out later I was out for almost a week. They thought I would never wake up, that I'd starve while lying there." He glanced up at Dean, tiny hazel eyes almost shining at his memories. "Without them I'd have never made it."

Dean drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table. He stopped when he saw Sam jump at the motion, folding the fingers self-consciously back into a fist. He felt awful that he kept startling his little brother by accident. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Sam again, after what he'd done earlier. "We were gone by then," he said sadly. "Dad had us combing the town for you and the witch for days, and he picked up a trace of her trail a few towns over. The trail faded a few weeks out," he looked away, unable to meet Sam's eyes, "and we gave you up for dead." His voice gave out at the end, deep-seated regret and condemnation knocking down any emotional walls. "We never thought you'd be here without her."

"Sam, I'm sorry. I wasn't ready for her, and look where you ended up because of it." Dean closed his eyes, feeling the regret surrounding him.

At this, Sam pulled himself to his feet. He went over to Dean's hand, still curled up in a fist that was level with his stomach, and patted the knuckles next to him supportively with his good hand. Dean forced himself to not twitch at the unexpected sensation, remembering Sam's reaction earlier. Dean couldn't help the surprise on his face at this brave action, considering how jumpy Sam had been with him so far. And considering how Dean had grabbed him early on in the day. He couldn't blame the kid for being so nervous. It's not every day you casually talk to someone who almost crushed you once already and could squash you by accident.

"It's not your fault, Dean." Sam said quietly. "There's no way you could have known. I didn't believe it myself till they took me out of their house and showed me. You have no idea... seeing everything you used to know tower over you like that... buttons bigger than your shoe... needles you could wield like a sword..." His voice drifted off for a moment. "Boots the size of a house," he said, so quiet Dean had to strain to hear. It hurt even more when Dean realized Sam was probably talking about _his_ boots. It was weird to think of them that way. To think of himself as a giant at all.

Backing away from Dean's hand, Sam wrapped his arms around him for a moment, making him seem even smaller and more vulnerable than ever. "It's been years since I could really remember what it's like to be human."

Before Dean could stop himself, his finger was stretching out to Sam. He carefully rubbed up and down one of the small arms supportively. He wished he could do more, but at this size he was afraid he'd accidentally squash Sam if he moved the wrong way. Sam jumped nervously under his finger when he made contact, then slumped helplessly, accepting the reassurance.

They both stayed like that for a few minutes. Sam, surprisingly enough staying near Dean's hand. He was much calmer now, not jumping at every move Dean made. A tiny bit of hope blossomed in Dean's chest. Maybe there was a chance he could regain his brother's trust, even after abandoning him all those years ago, and even after grabbing him earlier.

"So," Dean said. He cleared his throat, hoping to get back to safer ground. "What happened after you finally woke up?"

"After I finally realized it was real and not just some joke or hallucination, I went straight back to our old motel room. You weren't there of course, and I almost got caught by this kid that was staying there. I wasn't prepared for anything at this size. Everything I used to know could suddenly kill me without even realizing it. The family that found me originally saved me yet again, from my own stupidity this time, and after a long lecture on 'biting off more than I could chew,' they decided to adopt me and raise me as their own. They taught me everything I know about surviving at this size. Without them I'd never have made it this far." Sam sighed. Pushing away from the huge hand still hovering near him, he went back over to his slice of pizza and sat back down, wrapping his arms around his knees. He buried his face in his arms against the memories that came flooding back.

After a few moments of silence that Dean tried to fill by eating his own pizza (ignoring the nervous way Sam eyed him the whole time) he heard Sam's tiny voice pipe up. "So... why did you come back here?"

Dean couldn't help frowning at this question, though when he saw Sam tense at his expression he tried to soften it a little. It hurt to hear the surprise in Sam's voice at him coming back. "I don't really know. Dad sent me coordinates for this town, but he still won't answer my calls or talk to me."

"What do you mean 'still'?"

_Dumbass, of course he has no idea what's going on. He's been in this motel for years._ Pulling out of his private mental flaying, Dean answered him. "Dads been missing for a few months now."

"Dad's... missing? Is he alright?" Sam's voice was full of worry.

"Yeah, he vanished on a hunt in Jericho. I have no idea how he's doing. He hasn't answered my calls since. For a while he even turned off his cell. I only found out _that_ was turned on from someone else who tried to call him and got a message where Dad gave out _my_ cell." Dean sighed, rubbing between his eyes, feeling the stress from losing their Dad wash over him all over again. "I tried to pick up his trail, but it's like he vanished into thin air. This is all I've been able to find of him so far." Dean dug into his leather jacket and pulled out a thick, leather bound journal. He placed it on the table not far from Sam.

"Is that...?" Sam pulled himself to his feet again and walked toward the book.

"Yeah, it's Dads journal." Dean reached over and opened up the book to some of the first few pages.

Sam looked up at Dean, surprised. "Dad doesn't go _anywhere_ without that thing!"

"Yeah, well he did this time." He brushed his hand reverently over the pages as Sam came up to it. "Left me coordinates in it when he disappeared, too. I was hoping to find him but all I found was a Wendigo terrorizing campers. When he wants to vanish, he really vanishes. I haven't been able to pick up a trail since. The only reason I know he's alive is from the text messages he sends with coordinates on occasion. All from different numbers so I can't track him that way, and he never turns on his actual phone. No matter how many messages I leave him I've never got an answer. I need to find him." Noticing how large his hand was compared to his brother, he moved it away self-consciously, giving Sam space to see the journal.

Sam didn't answer for a few minutes. He stood next to the (to him) huge journal, arms crossed thoughtfully. Bending over, he flipped through a few pages of the book, hoisting them over his head to turn the pages. Dean smiled slightly, thinking back to when Sam had found the book. They had both been kids, and it was when Sam still had no idea why they traveled around so much. Before he knew monsters were real. He'd forced Dean to tell him the truth that day, unable to contain his curiosity. Dean had spent so long trying to protect his brother from the truth, he'd hated every moment when he'd told Sam what their father really did. Such a long time ago... He wished life would go back, when he and Sam were always together. Before losing his brother had almost pushed their dad over the edge, blaming himself for Sam's loss and making him push Dean away.

Sam paused on a page. "Did you ever find what killed Mom?"

Dean saw where his brother had stopped in the journal. 1993. The year Sam had been lost. Leaning over his brother and the book, Dean scanned through the page Sam was looking at. Tulpas, and urban legends, and a brief note of their father's 15th wedding anniversary, all written in John's normal handwriting (which, admittedly was not the easiest scrawl to read). Right after, the page was scribbled on, almost completely illegible. All about the witch he'd been tracking, and how he'd lost Sammy.

Reading that page again, Dean could almost feel the way John blamed himself for it. Not that he should've. Dean was the one who had been there. Dean was the one who'd lost Sam.  
><em><br>May 23rd,_

_Sammy's gone._

_I can't quite wrap my head around it. I spent so long trying to protect him, Mary. Shield him from this life. Where did I go wrong?_

_Dean hasn't said a word to me since the motel room. Can't say I blame him. No matter what, it's on me for leaving them in that room alone. It's my fault, not his. They were both in the room, neither had stepped foot outside since we arrived. Dean tried to fight her off, he did. She overpowered him easily. I knew the witch was working in the area, I should have been on guard. I barely got Dean away from her before she got him too._

_Doesn't matter if Dean ever forgives me for what I did. Losing Sam. I'll never forgive myself._

_I'm sorry, Mary. I lost your baby boy._

Sam read over the page slowly, slumping down when he saw the pain in those huge pen strokes. The agony they'd been in after losing him, the helplessness when he'd disappeared. And it brought back all the pain he'd been in when he'd realized his family, the only two people in the world he'd trusted, had abandoned him there. While he was staring down at the words, reliving his past, Dean continued on above him.

"No. Not even a trail, not once. We kill whatever we can find, and we save a lot of people doing it. But we still can't find the damn thing." He sighed deeply. "All we need is for one break, for this thing to rear its ugly head again so we can find it. And kill it."

After a few more minutes glancing through the book, Sam looked back up at Dean. "Do you have any idea what Dad sent you here for?"

"No, nothing yet. But Dad wouldn't have sent me coordinates unless it was important. I just need to dig a little deeper, that's all." Dean pushed his chair away from the table, pausing when Sam jumped at the loud sound. "Sorry..." he muttered. Poor kid seemed afraid of everything.

Dean took a few moments to clean up his mess, putting away everything but the slice he'd left out for Sam. Only the bottom tip was missing from the pizza, reminding him of exactly how small Sam was. The entire time, Sam watched him warily while he moved around the room, almost reminding Dean of a small, scared animal with his jumpy reactions. It almost broke Dean's heart, seeing his own brother react to everything he did like that. He wished he could make Sam understand he would never do anything to hurt Sam. That he regretted grabbing Sam earlier more than anything else in the world.

He could barely imagine how it had been for Sam when he'd caught him... the poor guy _had_ been hiding from him, after all. But after a life of hunting, he'd drawn the conclusion something dangerous had been sneaking around in the room. It was an automatic reaction these days, and one that had saved his life more than once. He'd tracked the sound to behind the nightstand, and listened carefully, taking note of the small taps away from one of the sides. Once he'd figured out where it was, it had been child's play to reach around the side and snag it in a fist. And pull out his estranged brother. He shuddered while sticking the pizza in the fridge, knowing how close he'd come to crushing Sam. Sam who was too small to defend himself against his own brother.

Once everything was away, he sat back down, pulling the computer up so he could work on his research more. It was as good a way as any to keep his mind off how he'd almost hurt his brother.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Sam came over, standing right next to Dean's right arm in an attempt to see the screen. Cocking his head up at Dean, he asked, "This is yours?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, confused. "Why?"

"Nothing. It's just... I've never seen a computer like this. It's too dangerous to get that close to humans, and..." he gestured at himself, "I'm not exactly big enough to use one anymore."

Realizing what Sam meant, Dean lifted his arm out of Sam's way so he could see better. "Huh," he said. He'd never realized how much he took for granted, even in his screwed up life. "Never?"

Once he recovered from his surprise at Dean's sudden movement, Sam stared down at the table, almost shyly. "No," he sighed. "And I almost never get to read books anymore, either. My family scavenges to survive, going into rooms when people leave them to see what they left behind."

"Kinda like the Borrowers!" Dean exclaimed, accidentally interrupting Sam. He couldn't help being surprised at the thought.

Sam's brow furrowed. "The... Borrowers?"

"Yeah, it was a book series where little people lived under the floorboards, sneaking out to 'borrow' what they needed to survive."

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Sam nodded. "Yeah, kinda. They don't have a name for themselves, so humans might have found them before, and named them 'Borrowers.' Only we don't borrow things at all, 'cause to borrow would imply we intend to return. For the most part we stay away from occupied rooms and try to only hit them up when people leave, only taking unwanted or forgotten items. It's only when we're desperate that we go into a room people are staying in currently, or where they keep the food for the kitchen. Very desperate. It's the best way to make sure we don't get caught. Like when you found me earlier. Being captured like that... you're helpless. There's nothing you can do to escape. Since no one usually checks into a room before the afternoon, I thought I'd be safe hitting up this room. I wasn't expecting anyone to come in so soon."

Dean felt guilt wash over him again at the reminder of how they'd first met. "About that... Are... are you ok? How... how bad did I hurt you when I... y'know... grabbed you?" He rubbed the back of his neck, unable to look at Sam.

Sam stalked over, stopping right in front of Dean. He gave the huge arm resting next to him a rough kick to get Dean to look back up at him. Dean's eyes darted back up in surprise at the unexpected contact. "Dean, I'm _fine_. You didn't hurt me. Just scared the crap outta me."

"But, your wrist..."

"What, this?" Sam held up the bandaged arm. Dean nodded mutely, wide green eyes unable to look away from the little limb. All he could think about was the way Sam had run from him earlier, arm clearly in pain. "I got this when I fell off the nightstand. _You_ didn't do it, Dean. It got twisted when I was trying to hide. Made a stupid move. It's my own dumb fault."

Dean lowered his eyes from Sam again, ashamed. "When you were trying to hide from _me_. And with good reason, too."

Sam snorted at that, recognizing a losing battle. "Dean, stop blaming yourself. As weird as our lives always are, it's not like you could have predicted you'd find your long lost little brother you'd given up for dead thirteen years ago sneaking around your motel room, smaller than a mouse. And besides... id've hid like that from any human. So don't feel too special."

Dean managed a tenuous smirk at that. "Well, when you put it that way..." he said weakly, hiding his surprise at hearing how Sam talked about humans. Like he wasn't a human anymore.

Sam continued. "You just did what anyone else would have done, unfortunately. Being this size isn't exactly all sunshine and rainbows." A thought occurred to him. "Except for the gun. Seriously, who the hell pulls a gun on a guy four inches tall? Have you ever heard of the term 'overkill'?"

"Hey, I didn't know what you were! For all I knew you were some ghoul crawling through the vents, or a ghost. All it takes is one mistake, Sammy." He sat up straighter. "And I, for one, do not intend to make any mistakes."

Sam eyed him skeptically at that. "And what good would a handgun do against Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?"

"I'd cross that bridge when it comes." Dean gave Sam a slight smirk, glad to see his brother starting to loosen up a bit around him. An idea popped into his head, a way to keep Sammy around a bit longer, hopefully. Dean hated the thought of Sam leaving. Not knowing if he was okay, hurt, captured... now that Dean knew he was alive, something twisted inside him at the thought of Sam leaving. "Hey, do you want to stick around tonight and help me do some research? You might think of something I'm missing. Fresh eyes and all that."

"Seriously?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean in wide-eyed disbelief. "You actually _want_ my help?"

"Uh, yeah. 'Course." Dean said, surprised at the reaction, "I could use all the help I can get. If something's going on here, I need to find it as fast as possible, and so far I've got bupkis. And you know me and research..."

Sam snickered at that, probably remembering all the times growing up that Dean had bribed him to do the research. "Guess some things never change." Dean had always preferred action to words and reading. He sobered up quickly. "It's just..." Sam looked down at the tabletop, flopping his arms in a half shrug. "I find it hard to believe I can help you out much like this. I can barely open a book."

"You never know." Dean gestured at the computer. "At the very least, you could always use the laptop. I could show you how. Since... you never got to use one before. And it'll be easier than trying to read a giant book. I think."

He saw his little brothers face light up at the thought of using the computer, and bit the inside of his cheek to avoid smiling at the sight. If he wasn't careful, he was going to turn into such a softie here. Sam walked hesitantly forward, eyes huge and round as he looked at the laptop. Dean pulled up the internet browser, showing Sam how to search and how to use the touchpad. It took some getting used to for Sam, being so small he had to work extra hard to even get the pointer to move, but he got it right eventually. And watching Sam hop around the keyboard was entertaining all by itself. Even Sam admitted that the computer was easier to use than a book, though. Unless the book was large enough to stay open on its own, Sam was too small to hold it open to read.

For a while, Dean sat back in the seat, reading through the local newspapers he'd picked up earlier on in the day and browsing through a few of the books on the town's history. On occasion, he'd glance up at Sam, still shocked at how normal they were both treating this. Like it happened every day. And Sam had finally stopped jumping at his every move. Maybe was even starting to trust Dean again in the short time since they'd been reunited.

His tiny brother was reading the screen like a man given water just out of the desert. Sam's small bag was sitting right next to the computer, where he'd dumped it before climbing on the computer. Dean felt his mouth quirk up into a smile at the sight, glad to see his brother enjoying something in this screwed up situation. It was just like when they were kids, Sam reading anything he could get his hands on. It must have been torture all these years for him, with no reading material his size.

A while later, Dean glanced over at the time. Past midnight. Heaving a sigh, he sat up. Startled by the sudden movement, Sam looked up at him, stepping back.

"What's up?"

Trying to hold in a yawn, Dean stretched. "I gotta get to bed. Gonna scope out the town early tomorrow, see if I can find something we missed." He stood up. "Feel free to use the computer for as long as you can tonight, if you want."

Sam couldn't keep the surprise off his face at that. "Th-Thanks!" He said, sounding startled.

Dean went over to his bed to start getting ready for bed. "Oh, and if the computer shuts itself off, just hit any key and enter in the password."

"What's the password?"

Dean scribbled it down on a piece of paper for Sam, placing it down on the table. Reading Dean's blocky handwriting, with letters bigger than his boots on the page, Sam snickered. "Really? THAT's your password?"

"What's wrong with it?" Dean demanded, feeling put out.

"Dude, your password is Babscom. I don't even know what to say. Lemme guess... Busty Asian Beauties dot com?"

"Hey, it works. I've never forgotten it." Dean flicked the paper at his little brother in annoyance. "How do you know about websites like that if you've never used a computer, anyway?"

Hands over his head, Sam ducked out of the way of the paper flying at him. Once he was sure he was out of the line of fire, Sam gave Dean the best bitchface he could muster against what was still an intimidating giant to him. "I still see people on the computer late at night when I'm out, even if I've never used one. And I don't think that's the only point of a password. You should make it a bit harder to guess." Crossing his arms, he turned away from Dean, facing the computer.

Dean couldn't help rolling his eyes at that. "Yeah, whatever smartass. Will you be back tomorrow?" He tried to hide the eagerness he felt at the prospect.

"I'll stop by if I can. Just... watch your step. In case I can't get your attention. Alright?" Sam couldn't stop his voice from quavering a little at the thought. Being so small was dangerous.

Dean grinned, glad Sam wasn't completely against coming back. _As long as there's hope..._ "Sure thing, Sammy. You don't have to be afraid anymore. I promise." Patting his small brother gently on the shoulder with a finger (stubbornly ignoring both the way Sam jumped when he did, and how small he was compared to Dean's finger), he left to get ready for bed, leaving Sam alone on the laptop.

* * *

><p>Finally, how Dean feels about the whole situation. And, before anyone condemns me for how I approached John's take on it, this is different than the witch that tried to kill Sam in the first season on TV. Here, Dean never left the room. He was there every second and almost got himself zapped too. He gave it his damnedest trying to save Sam... none of them could have predicted this would happen. So, here John blames himself, Dean blames <em>himself<em> and Sam doesn't blame either of them. Damn Winchesters and their self-blame.

More to come next week! Thanks for all the nice reviews!


	4. Separation and Suspicion

Hours later, Sam was still standing on the laptop, hungrily reading through yet another web page. There was just so _much_ out there, so much to learn that he couldn't bring himself to leave. He'd never realized how huge the internet was!

Dean hadn't moved so much as a muscle in hours, collapsed facedown on one of the beds in the room with a blanket draped casually over him, a thick arm wrapped around a pillow. The most Sam had heard out of him recently was the occasional snore. He was still edgy around Dean, even in sleep. It was impossible to brush aside 13 years of conditioning against ever trusting any humans. Although his heart told him he could trust his older brother, his instincts still screamed against him staying here any longer... telling him to leave, get under cover, get to _safety_.

He sighed at himself. _This_ is _safety. Probably the safest you've been in years, with Dean around again._ A smile edged around his mouth, remembering how his brother had always been there to protect him growing up. Anything, whether it was protecting him from the truth of what their Dad did, or just a bully picking on him in school, Dean had always been there for him.

For the moment, Sam was determined to figure out what was going on in this town for Dean. Whatever ended up happening between them in the end, he wanted to be there for his brother this time. He couldn't imagine what it was like, hunting all the big bad monsters in the world alone. Without support, or backup, or family there for you. At least he had his adopted parents, Walt and Mallory Watch. They had always been there for Sam, every step of the way when he was adapting to his new role in life. But Dean was completely alone, even their father had left him in the end...

So far, he'd combed over the occurrences during the last month in the town. Disappearances, odd accidents... all things that Dean had gone over before. All normal for a town this size. Or so Dean said. Sam didn't exactly have experience with that sort of thing. But something was nagging at Sam about the kid who'd vanished during the past week. It seemed so familiar to him... He pulled up the page about the kid again. _Sean Hollick, age 9. Disappeared when on vacation with family from their hotel room._ He could swear he'd heard something just like that before...

It came to him in a flash when the picture loaded up of where Sean had vanished from. It was the same motel Sam had been attacked, the same motel all those years ago that their father had been tracking the witch at. The same motel Sam was living at now. Where Dean was staying. After all this time, she must have deemed it safe to return and continue what she'd begun. Their Dad must have been keeping a watch on the town ever since he lost Sam there. So once he picked up a scent, he'd texted Dean the coordinates.

As happy as Sam was that his brother was there, he couldn't help but wonder why his Dad hadn't come. He must have wanted to get revenge on the witch who'd taken his son away from him. So why not seek it out?

Leaving the laptop on that page, Sam went over to the paper with Dean's password on it. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to pick up the pen, which was much taller than he was and as thick around as his leg, but not overly heavy and wrote out the word _**WITCH**_ on the slip of paper, as large and as blocky as he could manage, needing the words big enough for a human to read. Because of how he was writing it, it ended up looking very sloppy (there's only so much you can do with a pen almost twice your size), and he had to hold the paper still with his boot, but Dean would get the point. Just in case he didn't make it back the next day, so his brother would know everything he did.

Crossing his arms, he carefully read over what was on the screen one last time, committing it to memory. While he was there, he heard a nearby thump in the darkness past the glow of the monitor. Pulling his knife out, he called out softly, suspiciously, "hello? Is someone there?"

He jumped in surprise when his adopted father, Walt, stalked into the light of the monitor. "Sam?!"

"Dad!" He said, shocked. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

"What do you _think_ I'm doing here? I'm taking you home! I can't _believe_ you're here! After everything I told you earlier! After all I've taught you, all these years you've lived with us, this is how you repay us? By putting everyone at risk! Do you _realize_ how much danger we're in right now?!"

During the rant, Sam realized he could hear the blankets shifting on the bed. It was the first time he'd heard any movement from that side of the room in hours. Realizing his brother must have awoken and was listening to every word they were saying, Sam felt his insides freeze up. Dean's hunter instincts must have kicked in at all the sudden noise, and the thought of his brother capturing his adopted father to protect Sam horrified him. The last thing he needed was two of the most important people in his life fighting against each other. Especially since they would both be trying to protect him in their own way.

And the thought of a human eavesdropping on them like this chilled Sam to the bone, no matter how much he trusted Dean. After all these years living apart, Dean was still an unknown that Sam had no control over. A very large and very dangerous unknown that was expertly trained against handling the supernatural, which even Sam had to admit he had become. He wasn't human anymore. He didn't even remember most days what it was like to _be_ a human. There was no doubt in Sam's mind that if Dean ever found reason to, he could track and capture Sam's little family without breaking a sweat. And at this size, none of them could do anything to stop him. After all, Dean was big enough to be able to scoop all of them up in one hand if he ever needed to. What kind of self-defense could save you from that?

Sam's brow furrowed as the implications of his actions truly set in. Not only did Dean know about Sam, he knew there were others just like him, after Sam's story and his father's appearance. And Dean might _not_ be a threat against Sam, but what if the hunter in him decided against Sam's family? Angrily, Sam pushed away the thought, disgusted he would even _think_ such a thing about his own brother.

He needed to make his adopted father understand before Dean decided to step in and 'save' Sam. "Dad, you don't understand! Wait! I can explain, please..." Sam found himself being dragged from the laptop forcefully while he was protesting. He dug his heels in as much as he could on the smooth tabletop. His dad hadn't noticed when the covers rustled. Maybe he could get out of this without a meltdown... he just needed Dean to stay put, and his adopted dad to not do anything his brother would take as a threat...

His dad whirled around, stern blue eyes locking onto Sam's. "Understand? What I understand is you're in a room with a _human,_ who could wake up _at any time,_ and you're sitting here using his laptop, in a goddamn circle of light! If he wakes up, how will you get away from him, huh?" He waved his arms dramatically. "You're practically sitting in a spotlight that says 'Here I am! Come catch me!'" He exhaled slowly, trying to calm down. Sam could almost swear he saw stream coming from his ears. He'd never seen Walt so angry before in all the years he'd lived here. "I thought we taught you better than this, boy."

"But, I... it's not what you think..."

"What, you think he's your _brother?"_ Sam managed to tear away from Walt's gaze at this, angry at the sudden derision in Walt's tone. His adopted father lowered his voice. "Sam, if he's not, who's going to protect you from _him?_ And even if he is, you can't protect yourself like this. We're all at risk with you here." This time he pulled Sam's arm far more gently, tugging him away from the light.

Sam cast one last look over his shoulder at his brother's sleeping form. Huge green eyes were peeking out from under the cover, in a way that Sam intuitively knew meant he was silently asking if Sam needed any help. While his adopted father was walking away, still dragging Sam along behind him, he shook his head, signaling to Dean that he was fine. The covers rustled one last time as Dean settled back into sleep. Sam felt his heart calm down now that he didn't have to worry about Dean trying to capture them. Or try to capture Walt, since Sam doubted his brother would actually try to catch him again. At least his brother still trusted him enough for that.

Once they reached the edge of the table, Sam saw the line his father had used to climb up. Walt glanced over at Sam. With his eyes on Sam's sprained wrist, he asked, "can you climb with your hand like that?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. But dad, _please,_ you need to understand... I would never put you or mom in danger. Ever. Please, you have to believe me."

Walt didn't say anything back. He simply swung down off the table, carefully climbing down the leg of the table. Sam sighed, following him. He slid down using one hand. It was faster than he liked to go, but it worked. He used the sleeve of his jacket to cut down the friction burn, covering his hand.

He landed on the ground next to his dad with a thump, who tugged the line until the hook on the table came free, tumbling down at them. Walt caught it smoothly from long years of practice. Without a word, they left the room together through the small, hidden entrance behind the dresser.

* * *

><p>From underneath the bed cover, Dean watched his miniature brother, still standing near the laptop, being confronted by another man just as small... Or even a little shorter than Sam, from what he could see. His mouth quirked up in a brief smile. His mini-brother, the tall one. Now <em>that<em> was funny.

He'd woken up the moment an unfamiliar voice had cut through the silence in the room, alert within seconds. After so many years hunting, both with and without his father, he'd become a very light sleeper, able to rise at a moments notice. Anything less could get you killed in your sleep. And somewhere in the back of his mind he'd been keeping an ear out for any threats against Sam. He shifted slightly in the bed, prepared for anything. Like he'd told Sam, it only took one mistake, and that lesson had been drilled into him by circumstances the day Sam had vanished. Better safe than risk losing Sam ever again.

He saw his tiny brother jump slightly at the rustling from Dean's movement, glancing nervously in his direction. The other continued ranting on about how reckless Sam was being, not taking any notice of anything past the two of them on the table, as he grabbed Dean's brother and dragged him away from the laptop. Dean tensed, ready to jump up at a moments notice. But Sam caught his eye before he made a move and shook his head slightly, signaling Dean to stay put.

He let himself relax slightly back into the covers, trusting Sam's assessment of the situation. He watched as his brother climbed down off the table, tracking both Sam and the one he'd called 'dad.' It must be one of the people Sam had mentioned that had saved him all those years ago. For a moment Dean wished he could thank the small man, for saving his brother when even his own family gave up on him. That debt could never be repaid in Dean's mind.

Once he was certain they were both out of the room, Dean stood up out of bed. He went over to the table, curious if Sam had left him anything before being dragged out. He picked up the little slip of paper he'd put his password on. Small blocky letters spelled out **witch.** _No way..._ he read what had been left up on the screen. His heart dropped slightly. The missing little boy's profile matched Sam's perfectly, right down to how he'd vanished. _How did I miss it?_ Which meant there might be some little boy out there now, going through the same thing as Sam. Alone and defenseless.

Dean dropped down on his hands and knees, pulling the dresser slightly away from the wall. Yep, they'd gone through one of the secret entrances he'd found earlier on that day, after he'd first discovered Sam. It was the same entrance he was fairly certain his brother had come through this last time, considering that Dean had heard him on that side of the room while he was ordering pizza.

He smiled at how surprised Sam had been when Dean had known he was there, but considering Dean's instincts had been on edge ever since discovering his _brother_ hiding from him behind the nightstand, he'd been able to recognize the sound of small feet walking to the edge - the same sound he'd heard earlier that day, right before grabbing his tiny brother. Spotting Sam out of the corner of his eye, standing there hiding, so small and so afraid had almost broke his heart, and he'd wanted nothing more than to reassure him. Especially since he knew what Sam was so afraid of was _him._ He'd _needed_ to let Sam know he would never hurt him. Just remembering how he'd grabbed Sam earlier in his fist made Dean feel monstrous. Sam had been so easy to hold in place, his tiny body helpless with the huge fingers curled around it. And seeing how small his hand was - tiny fingers almost invisible to Dean, pinched between his own huge, clumsy fingers - had made it all the worse. He could have broken Sam's arm with a twitch. It scared him how much power he'd had over Sam in that moment.

Offering him pizza had been the only thing Dean could think of. He wasn't the best at approaching this type of situation, and he'd been so worried that he'd scare off Sam by accident. For a few minutes he thought he had, when he'd seen Sam back away from the edge fearfully. Thankfully, Sam had given him the chance he needed in the end.

He put the dresser back where it had started with a loud scrape. He didn't want Sam to know how paranoid he really was. But after all this time hunting on his own, he couldn't bring himself to trust anything anymore. Except Sam himself. Even their father had left Dean in the end, after all. Sam was the only one who hadn't abandoned Dean. In that case, Dean had abandoned Sam. It was his fault he'd lost his brother. It was always his fault.

* * *

><p>Sam followed his adopted father grumpily down the long tunnel to their hidden home.<p>

The silence from his father pressed in on him. Ever since leaving the motel room, neither of them had made a sound. The only noise in the tunnel came from their light footsteps, thumping off the thick wood that formed the bottom of their tunnel. Occasionally one of them would step in a small pile of sawdust left from when the motel was originally built, before any of the little people came to live there. Sam tried to unsuccessfully brush off the dust that insisted on sticking to the bottom of his pants.

Currently, he knew of three other families that resided in the walls of the motel. Thought there were many that lived either in the wilderness, or in the home of a human family, the people that lived here had chose to live there because of how the motel worked. It was easier here... while in a human house, someone might notice if the same items went missing week to week. On the other hand, in a motel, because of the transient nature of the inhabitants, it was far easier to avoid notice while still being able to gather all the necessary elements of survival.

Of the three other families, Sam was only in contact with one of them. The others were too far off from where his parents had chose to make their home to be able to visit on a regular basis. It was best for them to stay spread out, missing items were far more noticeable when the little people congregated. If humans ever noticed them, there would be trouble, people trying to capture them or call pest control. They'd probably have to find new homes, not an easy prospect in such a big and dangerous world.

Ruminating over this in the silence of the tunnel, Sam wondered about the others. Would Dean decide they were a threat if he discovered how many were living here? _I doubt it... the most we take is crumbs to a human... we're less threatening than mice, and far harder to spot... _He wished he could push away the doubt in his brother completely. It would make convincing Walt far easier.

After a long time of traveling in silence, they finally reached where their little home was tucked away between the support beams of the motel. Sam gave a sigh as he entered, glad to be back somewhere that he almost felt like he fit in. The only offsetting things about the little home was the spare items laying about... buttons the size of his head, a silver quarter that was almost as tall as his knee. Not for the first time, he wished he could have his old life back. Things would be so much simpler had he never been separated from his true family, if he was the right size again.

His adopted mother, Mallory was waiting up for them. She was sitting on one of the little building blocks they'd found left in the motel one day. All it took was a little padding and a scrap of leftover cloth to make a nice padded seat to sit on. She stood up as soon as Sam came in, wrapping him in her arms. "It's so good to see you back, we were worried." Stepping away, she brushed Sam's long locks out of his eyes and gave a half hearted smile.

She left him and Walt alone.

Although Sam knew why she'd waited up - worry over their safety while they were out - he wished she could have stayed. Walt seemed to know what was going through Sam's head. His eyes darkened as he turned to his 'son' once more.

"So."

Sam shifted uncomfortably under his heavy gaze. "Dad... you need to understand..."

But Walt didn't let him go any farther. "I understand perfectly. You thought you could reunite with your brother after all these years. But you need to understand. He's a human, and you're one of us now. You can't trust him, Sam! You can't trust any of them!"

"How would you know that?! He's my brother! Be nice if you could just trust me on this!" Infuriated, Sam tossed his satchel angrily against the ground, knocking a brass button across the hardwood floor.

Walt grabbed Sam's arm, swinging him around. He leaned in close, dropping his voice down. "You know better than to ask that. Brother or not, he is what he is. There has never been a happy ending when we're found by humans. Never. He's a danger to all of us, no matter what you used to be. Your families in danger, your _friends_ are in danger from him!"

Sam wrenched his arm away. "If that's true, you should have never saved me all those years ago! I was a human too, and nothing bad came of that!" He stalked across the kitchen floor, kicking his bag into his room angrily.

"That's not the point and you know it!" Walt took in a deep breath. Exhaled. "Sam." This time Walt's voice was almost at a normal level.

Sam turned, frowning.

"Sam, how many families will you risk to see your brother?" Ignoring how Sam's face darkened, Walt continues. "From what you told me about your human family, your brother is a hunter. The only thing worse than a human knowing that we exist is a _hunter_ knowing we exist. It doesn't matter that we never hurt anything! More than one community has been slaughtered just because we were _different. _They're _dangerous,_ Sam! He could kill us all!"

Sam looked down, anger starting to drain away. "Dean's different. I _know_ he is. Be nice if you trusted me!" He grabbed a slice from a cracker on the counter and stalked out, leaving Walt staring after him long after he was gone.

* * *

><p>Dean groaned as the first light of the day hit him straight on. <em>Worse than an alarm clock, <em>he grumbled to himself. Rubbing the sand from his eyes, he squinted at the alarm clock next to his bed. _Six in the morning, where does the day go?_

He hauled himself up, stretching out his arms to get rid of the kinks. Dropping his arms with a groan, he hauled himself out of bed. At the last second, he remembered what Sam had said the night before about watching where he stepped and froze, feet almost on the ground. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt Sam, even by accident. Sam was so _small_ it'd be easy to accidentally break his leg or arm with one careless move from Dean. Eyes carefully panning the room, he made sure the floor was clear before bringing himself to a stand. A hot shower sounded nice.

Going over to the small kitchenette, he started up the coffee machine. He needed his caffeine fix before going out and investigating the lead Sam had found him. He just hoped the boys family was still in town. For all he knew, they'd flown the coop the same way he and Dad had left without finding Sam.

Once the coffee was well on its way to being done, he got a quick shower. The heat of the water helped to wash away the excess stress he was carrying with him. Now that he'd found Sam he couldn't help but worry that Sam was alright... when he'd left a few hours ago, the argument he'd been having showed signs of being the start of an epic fight. Dean smiled at the thought. It reminded him of a few fights he'd seen his dad get into with some old friends. Sam had always been like that, especially with their father. Even when he was young they'd got into some epic fights. Most of the time about how much they traveled - Sam always wanted to settle in an area long enough to go to school. Dean and John had always accepted the moving around as part of the life, but Sam had always wanted more.

_Well, he finally got to settle in one place for a while. Hope it was what he always wanted._

Speaking of his Dad... Dean dug his phone out, checking if there were any messages. Nothing. _Nice to know you still care, Dad. Wish you'd at least let me know if you're alright. The worse part is not even knowing if you're dead or alive... _He contemplated the small phone while the coffee finished. His father still didn't know... still didn't know that Sam was _alive._ Hand shaking, he hit the call button.

Before the message John had left in his voicemail had finished spitting out Dean's number for the umpteenth time, he snapped the phone shut again, clutching it tightly against his mouth in a fist. As much as he wanted to... it wasn't his place to call their Dad and tell him about Sam. His brother would have to make that decision himself. He hated to admit it, but their father wasn't always rational when it either came to the supernatural, or Sam's 'death' all those years ago. It hurt him to think that way, but he wanted to do right by Sam after leaving him to fend for himself all these years. Sam would need to decide who to tell himself.

Sighing, he shoved the phone back in his pocket, going over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. It wasn't the smoothest blend, but it was hot, and dark, and had enough caffeine in it to get him going on what was sure to be a long day on the job. No rest for the wicked, after all.

Going over to the computer once his cup was done, he pulled up the information on the child Sam had pointed out, Sean, and his family. Committing it all to memory, he decided he would pull off the fake FBI getup. No one ever seemed to question it the last few times he'd worn it, making it one of his most successful guises yet. Aside from getting a few sidelong glances for how young he was, no one got in his way. Best to stick with what worked.

He suited up, making sure that wrinkles weren't showing in the mirror. He smirked at his reflection. _Knock'em dead, tiger,_ he thought to himself. After hiding away whatever weapons he could manage in the suit without drawing suspicions, he headed out, gamely tossing the Impala's keys in the air a few times as he left, in a surprisingly good mood.

After all, he had his brother back. What more did he need?

* * *

><p><em>He can see the house he lives in. For many years now, more years than he lived as a human, he has called it home. In a flash, Sam's vision is filled with fire, and screams. Heartbreak and pain. Then back, to the stillness of the house. Silence in the night.<em>

_He sees his adopted family, going through their nightly routine. Somehow he knows he isn't there with them tonight. His mother smiles, giving his father a peck on the cheek as he leaves for the bedroom. A small candle burns behind her for light. She gets a cup of water and puts out the candle. She goes to follow him into their small room. It was far cozier than Sam's room since they preferred the safety and security close walls gave them._

_She stops. Reaches up to brush the hair from her eyes._

_For a moment, Sam is sure he feels the house as it shakes. But, that's impossible, isn't it? They live under the floorboards of the farthest away motel room. No one ever stays there unless the rest of the motel is full. And they would have known if it was. Right now, there is no tourist season, no huge crowds sweeping into town to overwhelm the sleepy little motel. His brother is one of the few current patrons here._

_But then, it comes again._

_Dust shakes down through the cracks in the ceiling. Only darkness beckons beyond the gaps. His mother grabs at the thimble of water they keep on the 'counter,' a counter made from several child's building blocks and covered with a tablecloth she'd made from a scrap of forgotten fabric. It slips off anyway and crashes on the floor, soaking her pants._

_For a few long moments, all is silent._

_Then Sam's vision flashes forward, and all he can see is pain, and fire. And screams._

Sam woke with a desperate gasp.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

So... yeah... *hides*

In other news... you get to see a bit more of Sam's family. And how worried Dean is that he'll lose his brother again. It would shred him to say goodbye.

Unfortunately, Sam is forced to realize how dangerous his own brother is to his family, while Dean discovers what the other people that saved Sam are like... at least from a distance, thankfully.

Dean is still living up the self-blame, too.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I hope you're all enjoying this story as much as I am, and as always, I love the feedback! Keep it coming ;)

Next chapter coming on 11/21/14


	5. The Past

Sam woke with a start in his slowly warming room. The sunlight fell directly on their home in the morning unless the shades were closed, giving the uninsulated home brief warmth. Luckily in the winter, all the rooms were kept at a livable temperature, so the Watch family didn't have to worry about freezing. But the morning warmth was welcome after the cold of the night. It always sank into his bones, leaving him shivering under thin blankets.

He groaned as he shook off the night terror that had come over him. For some reason, for the last week he'd had nothing but nightmares. He'd be tempted to blame it on being caught by a human, but he'd been having the terrors long before Dean ever came to the motel. Always the same... his family, his mother in their home. Sam was never there with them. And in the end everything was eaten by darkness and flame.

Pushing away his nightmare, he wandered out into the dual living room/kitchen area. His adopted mother, Mallory, was in the kitchen, humming to herself while she broke apart a large cracker into edible portions. She turned at his entrance.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" She gave him a bright smile.

Sam rubbed his hand through his messy hair. "Wh-where's Dad," he managed to croak out, voice still rough from sleep.

"Oh, he went out to see if he can find any food. We're running low, and it's still too early for anyone to be in the kitchens." She swept her hand over the broken cracker. "This is all we have left for the moment." She grabbed a cup fashioned from aluminum foil, which was what they used to make all their utensils (an easily reachable supply found in the kitchenette of the more expensive motel rooms), filling it with water and going over to Sam.

He accepted it from her, happily gulping down the blessed wetness. Once he could talk without croaking, he cleared his throat. "Mom, about last night..."

"Don't worry about it, hon." She gave him an honest smile. "I know why you did it. I know how much you lost all those years ago. You know me and Walt don't see eye to eye on this. We never have, as long as you've been with us."

His eyes flicked down to the table, deep in thought. "I never meant to put any of you in danger. I just... I needed to know if he was my brother..." He blinked up at her for a moment. "My _brother..."_ small tears hid at the edge of his sight.

"Oh, Sam…"

She sat down at the kitchen table, one of the few items in the room that looked the same as the human equivalents from Sam's childhood. One of the perks of finding abandoned dollhouse furniture that was just your size. Sam sat down across from her, slowly nibbling on one of the crackers she'd broken down. He already missed the pizza from the night before, so hot and fresh and dripping cheese... so much better than the normal breakfast of scrounged crackers, occasionally cereal or if they were _very_ lucky, a bit of dried fruit.

"Sam... what do you remember from that night all those years ago?"

"I've told you what I remember. I saw the witch smash down our door, knocking my brother down. He was yelling at me to get down, but he was all the way across the room, and couldn't do anything with her pinning him down. Some kind of telekinesis, I think. Then a white flash, and I was waking up here, with you and Walt." He traced a finger over the clumsy etchings on the small table, caught up in the memory briefly.

She reached across the table, gently taking his injured hand in hers, careful to not squeeze too hard. "We never told you how we found you, did we?"

"No. Neither of you ever mentioned anything about that night aside from how glad you were I survived." Sam closed his eyes in memory. "And I asked constantly during my first few months here. You never gave in."

"We didn't want to tell you any of the details. We didn't want to make it any harder on you to get used to this life. But the witch... she came to that room for you and your brother. Not your father, like you thought. See, whatever spell she uses to change someone... it only works on _children._ It's worse than useless on an adult."

Sam blinked in surprise at this revelation. He opened his mouth to ask... but she shook her head at him, signaling for quiet.

"We'd heard whispers about this... how humans were being shrunk down, captured. We didn't believe any of it, of course. It was ridiculous! But then it started happening more often. More children were vanishing from around the town. All of them near the same age. Most 9 to 11 years old over the years, spread out over time. A few older children. Your father... I mean, Walt. He... he found out where the witch was staying. She was here, in the motel. He snuck into the vents over her room, eavesdropping to see if he could find out what she was up too. We may be small, but we do hear things when we want to. It seemed smart to keep an ear out, make sure we weren't in danger."

She took a deep breath, gathering herself for the rest. Sam stood up briefly, filling up a second cup of water for her. She nodded her thanks at him before continuing.

"While he was up there, he said it was like nothing he'd ever seen before. She was talking into a huge... chalice. Big, brass. She slit her arm to fill it with blood. Discussing the children she'd already taken. And then... a voice talked back to her. It was dark, brooding... evil. It told her about a family coming to the town, a family that knew what was happening. It gave her a name. _Winchester._ It told her it wanted the children... two boys. They were with their father, a hunter. She agreed to take them." Her eyes flicked up to meet Sam's. "She knew you were coming before you arrived. We watched for a family like the one described, but were too late to do anything. By the time we found the room you were staying in, the witch had already struck." Mallory drank deep of the water she was holding, hands shaking on the cup.

Sam frowned at that. "But... if you found us before she did, were you planning on telling us about her?"

She glanced away from him. "No, not face to face. Never face to face. There are ways to tell humans things... leaving a newspaper clipping, writing on paper... small, little things that humans write off. Ways that don't lead to discovery, or capture. Less risk that way, and you know how my Walt feels about humans. He would never have let me even _try_ to talk to you. Which was what I wanted to do. I wanted to do everything I could to protect you children... even at my own risk." She met his eyes again. "After losing my own child the year before, I couldn't bear to see another parent lose theirs."

Sam grabbed her hand with his good one, meeting her eyes with his own expressive hazel ones. "You've never told me how you lost her."

She blinked back tears. "Too painful," she mumbled. "Too raw. We only lost little Briella a year before finding you. She was taken by humans that were staying at the motel. Couldn't get her out before they left town, taking her with them. Don't know where she went..." she finished in a mumble.

She pulled her hand out of his. "We're on your story, anyway. When we got to the room, it was too late. You'd been hit... we could see you, so small and fragile laying on the floor near the witches shoe. Your brother couldn't see you from where he was held against the wall, yelling his heart out. The shoe was blocking you from sight. She turned her attention to him the moment you were small, fully intending to shrink him and complete the set. For a moment we thought he'd had it too, but the door slammed open and an older man came in. He slammed into the witch, knocking the both of them away from you. We took the chance to run and grab you, get you out of danger. At one point, your father almost stepped on us, we were so close to the fight..." she closed her eyes, tears pricking at the sides. "We took you back here, trying our best to nurse your wounds. I... I wanted to go back, and give your family some sign that you were alright, but Walt was firmly against it. And, before I could prevail on him, they were gone. Chasing after the witch they thought killed you."

Sam slumped back against his chair. "Wow."

"Yeah." She avoided meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He sat forward. "You don't have to be sorry. None of it was your fault, after all. There was nothing you could have done to stop her, and you risked yourselves to save me."

Hesitantly, she glanced at him, giving him a wan smile at his statement. "I just wish I could have done more... after all my determination, all my resolve, a parent still lost one of his children." She stood up, going back over to the kitchen to finish the cracker she'd been working on. "Sam... I was glad to have you with us all these years... but I know you need to see your brother. You need him now as much as you needed us back then. I saw how much he cared for you back then, how freaked he was when you disappeared. Just..." She gave him a small, tenuous smile. "Don't ever tell Walt I said this to you. He wouldn't understand."

"Of course not." Sam gave her a hug. "What would I do without you," he said quietly, seriously.

She brushed his bangs out of his face, saying, "I have a feeling you'd be just fine. You know how to take care of yourself. Just remember we're always here for you. And... so is your brother."

Sam stepped back, stretching out his arms. "I... I need to go think. Alone. This is all so much, I need time to take it all in."

"I understand. And Sam? _Be careful._ For me. Remember, just because he's your brother doesn't stop him from being dangerous, even just by accident."

He gave a sad smile at that last part, and left her standing in the small kitchen, sadly watching him walk away.

* * *

><p>It was nightfall before Dean made it back to the motel room.<p>

He'd spent the entire day sweeping through the town, interviewing anyone with a connection to the disappearances. The family of the little boy that had vanished wasn't in town, so he'd had to drive for an hour to talk to them about their lost little boy. The side trip hadn't yielded any new information - the little boy had been left alone in their motel room, and when they came back from running a few boring errands around town he'd been gone. So boring they'd left the boy alone in the room. The only oddity was the deadbolt on the door to the room was still there, so no one could figure out how he had been taken from the room. The police had to break down the door to get in.

Dean saw a few pictures of the little boy, committing them to memory. He was so similar to Sam, Dean could feel his guilt rise again. Small, scrawny, brown hair and matching eyes. Resolved to find out what happened to him, Dean banged open the door to his room.

The rest of the people he'd talked to had nothing useful to tell him for the case. He felt like he'd wasted an entire day chasing his tail. Whoever was doing this was good at avoiding detection. The trail of missing children traced back over decades, even before Sam had vanished all those years ago. He wondered how long it had really been going for... how many children had suffered. He would find a way to stop it. And hopefully find that little boy when he did.

He flopped into bed with a groan. He had no more leads to go on now, and no one had been able to identify the attacker. Burying his head into the pillow, he tried to figure out his next move.

His silent contemplation was interrupted by a tiny voice. "So, I'm guessing your day didn't go so well?"

Surprised, Dean raised his head from the pillow. His brother was sitting on the alarm clock on the nightstand, arms crossed with his eyebrows raised. He couldn't help but feel disturbed he hadn't even seen Sam sitting there. His spidey senses must be having an off day.

Dean pushed himself up from the pillow. "Whatever gave you that idea, shorty?" He snorted. Pushing down his annoyance, he swung his legs off the bed.

For once Sam didn't react to Dean moving around so close to him. "Just a guess." He waved his hand at Dean. "So, no idea who the witch is?"

"No, unfortunately." He arched his eyebrows at Sam. "Thanks for that, by the way. I can't believe I missed it."

Sam tucked his head down, embarrassment flushing his cheeks at the praise.

"Anyway..." Dean went on. "What have you been up to all day? I didn't think you'd make it back after what happened last night."

"Oh, yeah," Sam said. "I was... around." He waved his hand vaguely. "What Walt doesn't know won't hurt him. My adopted mother is covering for me."

Dean couldn't help snorting a little at that. The thought of lying about where he was going was completely foreign to him. He'd never had to deal with a curfew or anything like that since his Dad had almost never been around growing up... leaving him alone at motel rooms for weeks, or at Uncle Bobby's to stay, at least until Bobby and their Dad had an epic falling out where John was chased off his property (Dean never had found out why), only checking in if he remembered. Seemed like Sam, as odd as his life was now, had to deal with the more... ordinary... side of growing up.

Sam's voice broke through his thoughts, sounding hesitant. As though he couldn't believe was actually asking a human. "Do... You don't happen to have any water, do you? I haven't had anything to drink since I woke up this morning."

"Uhh... yeah, I should." Dean got up, trying to ignore how he towered over Sam when he was standing. He hated that feeling. It was a constant reminder of how different they both were now, when all he wanted was for them to be the same. Just like when they were kids. Going over to the kitchenette, he grabbed a fresh bottle of water, pouring a little into the cap.

He knelt down in front of the nightstand, carefully handing the cap over to his miniature brother. In Sam's hands, the cap was practically the size of a large pot. "Sorry, I don't have anything smaller for you. Didn't exactly come prepared to serve any Borrowers."

"Dude, still not a Borrower."

Dean smirked at Sam, ignoring the tiny glower directed at him. "Deny it all you want, but that's totally whatcha are, shorty."

"Whatever." Rolling his eyes, Sam gulped at the water with such desperation Dean wondered how long it'd really been since he'd had any. Pausing for a moment to breathe, he asked, "Dean, I've been meaning to ask you, why didn't Dad come check out this case? I remember how much he hated leaving a case open so I'm surprised he didn't come here himself to finish the job."

Dean glanced away from Sam, feeling the familiar regret hit him again. "Dad... he knew this was unfinished business for me. I'm the one who screwed up all those years ago, I'm the one who lost you to the witch. Dad sent me here to finish it."

"Dean..." Sam's voice trailed off. Dean shook his head, stopping Sam cold. It didn't matter what anyone else thought, he knew what happened back then was his fault.

Dean sat down on the floor, giving his knees a break. It wasn't as comfy as the bed, but sitting like this put him at Sam's eye level, making him feel like he wasn't overshadowing the guy. The last thing he wanted to do was intimidate Sam after everything else he'd been put through so far this week. He directed the conversation away from the painful past. "So, what else brings you back?"

Sam shifted on the clock, looking around for a place to put his water. Dean reached his hand forward, letting Sam place it on the outstretched fingertips nearest him. He placed the cap down next to the alarm clock, in case Sam wanted more later.

"Well... I wanted to help you with the case. Doesn't feel right to leave you on your own when we don't even know what we're up against. Not to mention, I don't know how long you'll be in town, and I'll regret it the rest of my life if I spend the whole time hiding from you." Sam stared down at his knees, face red and fists clenched.

Dean eyed his brother steadily. The hardest thing he could imagine doing now was leaving town without his brother. It wouldn't feel right, knowing Sam was alive and he'd just left him behind again, on purpose this time. "Sam... there must be a way to get you back to normal. Maybe once we find this witch, we can squeeze the truth outta her."

"Dean, I wouldn't even know what to do if I _was_ a human... this is my life now. This is where I live. I don't know how to be anything else anymore."

This sent a pang of regret through Dean, knowing this was partly his fault for not searching for Sam better all those years ago. He reached a hand towards Sam, wanting to reassure him, only to pull it back when Sam flinched away. "Sam... you know there's always a place for you with us. No matter what happened to you back then and what you are now, you're _family._ Always will be. No matter what size. I can't just leave you here."

"Yes you can."

Dean couldn't help but turn sad green eyes down to his brother. He could feel the agonized look pass over his face as he contemplated a life never knowing if his brother was alright. "Yeah, well I don't want to."

A long moment of silence passed between them.

"Aww, how _touching."_

Both brothers turned at the unexpected voice interrupting their conversation. Dean's eyes widened at the sight before them. The door was shut, deadbolt still in place. A tall woman stood before them, barely dressed in what could be considered 'decent' clothing. The diaphanous clothes draped around her curves, only truly concealing a few parts of her body. Long manicured nails, an elegant stance...

"You." Dean stood slowly, placing himself between his vulnerable brother and the witch. He pulled out his handgun, holding it at the ready.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, little Dean. You never learn." She flicked her wrist, jerking it to the side. Dean was slammed against the wall that connected to the bathroom with a groan. He was crushed ruthlessly against the wall, the siding behind him cracking under the pressure. The gun flew out of his hand from the impact, dropping to the floor a few feet away. It might as well have been miles.

"Dean!" Sam leaped to his feet, freezing when the witches gaze fell on him.

"You boys... I am so, so glad you're both here." She eyed up Sam seductively, slowly brushing a finger over her lips.

Sam glowered at her. "You're the one that did this to me, aren't you?"

"Oh, of course. I just wish I'd been able to finish the job." She cast her eyes to Dean. "I lost quite a bit of respect all those years ago, with you being saved by dear 'ole daddy and Sammy here disappearing on me." She sauntered over to Dean, hips swaying from side to side with each step. "Sooo glad you came back to me, sweetheart. After all," her fingertip brushed the side of his neck as she whispered seductively to him. _"You're_ the one that got away."

Dean growled at her, trying his hardest to pry his arms away from the wall. Nothing he tried was working so far. He chanced a brief glance over at his brother. At least Sam wasn't in the line of fire at the moment. He glared at the witch. _Gotta keep her away from Sammy._ "So, is this your grand plan? Take down the Winchesters?"

"Oh, dear. I don't want to take you _down._ I want to take you in." She stroked a finger down his face. Dean's cheek spasmed under her touch. "My master wants you bad. You boys are going to get quite a welcome."

"Why? Who could have _possibly_ wanted us when we were children?"

"Oho," she said with a smile. "That's for me to know and you to find out. And my master... he is so close right now. It will be simply _delicious_ when I hand you boys over."

Sam piped up at this. Dean wished fervently his vulnerable brother would stay quiet, keep out of her sights. "What do you mean, he's close right now?"

"Mmm... he's paying a visit to some old friends of mine. They did a bad thing, taking you from me, child. Now it's time for them to pay."

Dean felt his heart freeze. "No..." he whispered, praying he was wrong. He renewed his contest of wills with the witch, struggling harder against her vice-like grip. That could only mean the people who had saved Sam all those years ago. The adopted family that Dean had to thank for his brother being alive...

Sam reacted far more explosively. "NOOO!" He cried out. Leaping to his feet, he ran to the back of the nightstand, grabbing the alarm clock's cord to swing down with.

"Sammy, no! Wait! You're gonna get yourself killed!" Dean raged in the witches hold, unable to do anything to stop or help his brother. She smirked at his troubles, tightening her fist even farther the more he struggled. Dean gasped as the pressure on his chest doubled. His ribs felt like they were going to crack from the strength.

For a moment, Sam seemed to teeter on the edge of going and staying. His eyes flashed between Dean and the wall. Then to the witch. There was a moment of indecision, then his face hardened and he jumped off the back of the nightstand, sliding easily down the cord one handed. He vanished from view. Dean never even heard him hit the ground.

"Sam!" Dean couldn't tell if his words were having any effect with Sam out of sight. "No! _Dammit."_ He wrenched himself as far away from the wall as he could, lifting away a bare centimeter before slamming back again under the pressure from the witches spell.

The witch just watched him struggle for a long moment, arms crossed over her chest. She smiled maliciously at him. A manicured finger tapped out a silent beat against a bare arm while she enjoyed the show.

Dean stopped struggling, knowing he was too late now. Sam was gone. He glowered at the witch, focusing all his rage on her. "You bitch." He hissed out. "Why."

"Like I said, Deano. Me to know. You to find out." She leaned in. Her hot breath washed over his face, bare millimeters separating them. "Too bad you're too old for the spell to work on you now. I would so enjoy watching you squirm like a bug. Guess I'll have to make do with little Sammy."

Dean didn't respond, merely maintaining eye contact with her. He'd just realized he could move one of his arms. Her concentration must be waning. The pressure had gone down. An opportunity he couldn't waste. _Rookie move for such an old witch._ He needed to bait her more, give himself a little more time to slip out of her hold. Taking in an only partially faked shuddering breath, he asked, "Why shrink kids? What possible reason could you have for this?"

She laughed, light and airy as the sun. "Oh, you could never understand my reasons for what I do. Boy, the fun only _begins_ when I shrink them down."

Dean growled at the thoughts that crossed his mind at that. His heart twisted at the thought of all the children she'd taken over the years for her own sick pleasure. _Disgusting creature._ "What you did to them, to my brother... can it be reversed? Do the children ever change back?"

Staying close to him, she brushed her arm up his chest, stopping over his heart. She pushed down, sending fire flowing through Dean's veins like molten lava. He hissed in pain, scrunching his eyes closed. "Oh, deary me. I never told you." Her grip let up slightly, enough for Dean to gasp in a breath of fresh air. She put her mouth against his ear, sending goosebumps tingling up his spine. "The spell I used on your brother. It's _irreversible," _she whispered to him, throaty voice almost a purr.

Dean snarled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

So... remember that warning about off screen character death?

DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU! I TOLD YOU COMING IN TO THIS!

Oh Sam, how could you tell Dean he has to leave you behind? DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS WILL TEAR HIM APART!

Thanks for the wonderful reviews! The story continues next Friday!


	6. Brothers

Sam ran.

His long legs carried him quickly through the walls of the motel, running like he never had before. Gone was any desire for secrecy, for being afraid of being heard. Or caught.

None of that mattered now.

All he knew was he needed to get to his home. He needed to see his parents. His beautiful adopted mother, always with a laugh and a smile for him, no matter what he'd done. His adopted father, stern but with a twinkle in his eye that showed he truly cared. He had to be there for them, like they'd been there for him all those years ago, when they'd saved his life from the same witch that was currently holding his brother captive. Saved him from a tortured existence at her hands.

Regret ached at him that he'd had to leave Dean behind, hounding his footsteps. But if there was truly something after his family, he had to get to them. He had to save them. Dean was a trained hunter, twenty times their size, easily. He could handle himself. Walt and Mallory were defenseless and unsuspecting victims. Just ripe for the plucking. And it would all be because of him - because one night thirteen years ago they'd decided to save his life. All his fault.

His legs ached at the effort. Not once in his life had he run this far, this fast. So many years spent creeping around, focused solely on how little noise he could make, how unnoticeable he could be. He'd only truly run full out like this when he thought he'd been seen, and he needed to get out of sight as fast as he could. Even then, as soon as he could he would slow down, trying to move as quietly as possible. This time, being silent was the last thing on his mind.

As fast as he ran, it wasn't fast enough. It could never have been fast enough to save them.

The fire had gone out by the time he returned home.

His boots thumped hollowly through the ruins of his home. A few inches above his head, the floorboards had been ripped away, thrown with a force that had smashed the TV in the room above, one chunk of wood still embedded in it, sending angry sparks out as it died. Splinters hung down where their ceiling used to be. A cold breeze remorselessly blew in from the vents above. Sam's hair wafted in the chill wind.

Scorched ground marked the place where he'd seen his mother in his vision, black marks staining the ground. Their bedroom was worse. All that remained of everything that had been in there, furniture, Walt, _everything,_ was blackened ground, ash slowly scattering with the air coming in from the vents above.

The other half of the kitchen and dining room was still intact, burn marks showing a clear division from the devastation. His room was untouched as well, along with the small alcove they had used for storage.

Whoever had done this had known what they were doing. Had planned it out ahead of time.

He remembered how fast it had happened in his dream. How sudden the fire had struck, how Mallory hadn't even been able to scream before being consumed.

The way she'd been pinned to the ceiling moments before the fire had started.

Tears pricked at his eyes. He _knew._ It hadn't been a regular dream the night before. He should have told them... warned them!

A small scrap of scorched fabric, clear bloodstains on it, drifted past Sam's eyes. He grabbed it from the air, letting out a sob when he saw what it was. His mother had been wearing a nightgown made of the same material in his dream last night. In his vision.

Sam crumpled to the ground, clutching the fabric to his heart. _No,_ he moaned to himself. _Not them, not because of me... all they ever did was save my life, and this is where it got them... all my fault... I should have protected them better..._

The cold started to creep in while he was collapsed there, alone in the remains of his kitchen. The cold of a world that didn't care. The cold of a world turned against him. It chilled him to the bone, limbs becoming heavier and weaker with every passing moment.

Time slipped away.

As he sat there, ensconced in his despair, he slowly became aware of trembles that rattled the floor under him. A human was in the room above. And here he was, out in the open. Exposed. Unprotected.

Vulnerable.

He couldn't bring himself to care. What did it matter if he got himself captured now? His family was gone. First his birth mother, now his adopted parents. He couldn't help but feel it was all his fault. Like he was a jinx. The source of the problem instead of the victim.

The shaking grew more powerful, a shadow blocking the light from the world above Sam while the furniture shook in time with him. Sam shut his eyes tightly, afraid to look up.

But instead of the crushing pain and fire he was expecting after what he'd been through these last few days, after what his_family_ had just gone through, he was instead wrapped in warmth, his entire body gently cushioned as he was lifted away from the only home he'd known for over a decade. The cold vanished, bringing back his strength. He opened his eyes. Finding himself surrounded by carefully curled fingers the same size as him, he craned his neck, looking up out of the cupped hands that were supporting him. Surrounding him. Familiar green eyes peered sorrowfully down at him.

Dean.

His brother. His best friend.

The only person that Sam could rely on in a world turned hostile.

His brother's voice rumbled around him. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry," Dean said helplessly.

Hesitantly, the huge hands wrapped around Sam, pulling him gently against the wall of Dean's chest, the only hug his brother could give him now. A knuckle almost the size of Sam's back rubbed against him supportively, as gentle as it could be. Sam buried his face in the soft flannel shirt he was held against, letting out his fear and anger and frustration. His inability to protect his family. His failure to warn them. To tell them what he'd seen. The steady drumming of Dean's heart thrummed through Sam. Reassuring him. Calming him. He buried himself in the safety and comfort Dean provided, even if only for a little while.

Sam slowly started to calm down, his body no longer shaking with the silent sobs he couldn't let out.

An endless amount of time passed like that.

* * *

><p>It hadn't taken Dean long to figure out where Sam had gone.<p>

Truthfully, if he hadn't spent so much time and effort tracking down the witch these last few days, he would have figured it out much sooner. But his mind had been on other things, not on where his brother's home was.

Out of all the motel rooms, there were a few that were often left unused. Those near the landfill to the side of the motel, for instance (his family always knew how to choose real winners to stay at). Or those that were just far in the back of the small complex. The motel owner always booked the rooms closest to the main office. Once Dean got ahold of the records (with the help of his oh-so-illegal fake FBI badge) he'd found the rooms used least often, and went there as fast as he could. His first few doors had been unsuccessful, but when he opened up the third room, the one farthest away from everything, he knew he'd struck gold.

The first part that gave it away was the sulfur caking the door handle. His stomach clenched. There was no better indication of a demonic presence than sulfur. Hopefully the demon hadn't still been hanging around when Sam got here. Dean hoped desperately he hadn't arrived too late.

He stepped into the room hesitantly, scanning everything in sight. The first obvious sign of damage was the TV. A hunk of wood was embedded into the screen, small sparks crackling around the edges. Other wood slivers and splinters were scattered around the room. Dean put his hand on his sawed off gun he had hidden in his jacket, just in case. The salt it was loaded with would be a fantastic deterrent if any demons were still lurking around.

Finding no other signs of life, Dean made his way past the beds. On the floor, he could see where the wood had come from. There was a small hole, no larger than a foot, foot and a half wide, directly in front of the small closet. It was clear all the torn up wood had come from here. Claw marks were embedded around the edges. Carefully stepping forward, he peered down into the hole. Because of the way the sun angled into the room, his shadow fell directly on the hole, making it harder to see into. He knelt down slowly, leaving his gun on the floor next to him. And blinked in amazement.

Hiding in the hole was a tiny little house. What could only be described as attempts at chairs and tables were arranged in it, along with an actual bed, and a tiny little desk. He had never thought to see anything like it, outside of dollhouses for children. But here you could tell everything here had a use, had a place. Nothing was there simply for decoration. It was incredible, how perfect everything in the house was scaled for someone Sammy's size.

The damage to the little home was clear. Half of the house was char and ash, anything that had been there burned away in a fire. And sitting right in the center of all this, crumpled on the ground, was Sam.

Dean's heart went out to his little brother. This must have been the home Sam had lived in all these years while they were separated. It was tiny, and half destroyed, but would have been cozy when everything was in one piece.

Sam didn't even react to the noise Dean made, kneeling down right above his head. Hell, Sam probably didn't even know who it was, he hadn't looked up from the ground once since Dean had arrived. He just sat there, rocking back and forth in anguish. He was so small and vulnerable, crumpled on the floor like that.

Not sure if he was going to make things worse, but unwilling to just sit there and watch his brother suffer, Dean reached forward slowly. He wrapped both hands gently around Sam's tiny frame, scooping him easily up off the cold ground. This was what finally got a reaction out of Sam. He peered up, tiny hazel eyes shining wetly in the evening light. Dean could feel the tension in his brother slump away the second he saw it was Dean holding him. He couldn't even begin to imagine how it felt to be picked up by a giant without a choice, without a warning.

Dean said the only thing he could think of. He was terrible at this kind of thing, always had been. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry."

Not knowing what else to do, Dean held Sam against his shirt, attempting to give him a reassuring hug. Not so easy when you're trying to hug someone the size of your finger. To his surprise, Sam clutched at the shirt, back heaving with deep breaths. He was hyperventilating. Hoping to calm him down a little, Dean used his free hand to rub Sam's back. He was too big to do anything else helpful. He settled down on his knees, getting comfortable while keeping his tiny brother cupped against his chest. There was no way he was going to move from this spot until Sam was better. He wasn't about to leave Sam here on his own, all alone in this destroyed room, and he didn't want to take Sam away against his will, without even knowing where he was being taken. That just seemed cruel after everything else he'd been put through.

They sat like that for the better part of an hour, Sam struggling to regain control of himself with Dean patiently waiting, still cautiously running his finger down Sam's tiny back on occasion, well aware of how careful he had to be. The only movement he'd made in that time was a shift in position so he was leaning against the wall that was next to the tiny house, giving his knees a well-deserved rest. His brother hadn't reacted at all when he moved.

Sam finally pushed away from Dean's chest, leaning back in the hand against the curled fingers behind him. Dean pulled his other hand away, giving him space.

It was a few minutes more before Sam managed to say anything. "Dean," he started. His voice broke. He scrubbed at his face, clearing away any wetness left with angry determination.

"No rush, Sammy, I'm not going anywhere." Dean gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Feeling weird talking down to Sam like this, he lifted the hand his brother was sitting in, slumped back against Dean's curled fingers, closer to eye level.

Sam seemed to gather himself again. "Dean, about what I said earlier..."

Dean cut him off, not wanting to make this more painful for his brother after everything he'd been through. "Sam, it's alright. As much as I want you to come with me, I'd never force you. Never make you do anything you don't want to. You have to do what's best for you."

Out of all reactions Dean was expecting, irritation honestly wasn't one of them. "Dean. Shut up. Just... shut up already." Despite the angry sounding words, there was hardly any emotion left in Sam's voice. Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. Sam gave him a half-hearted glare back. "I wanted to say... I want to come with you. Help you track down and kill this son of a bitch. For my family." For all of his four inch height, Sam's eyes were flinty steel. "They died the same way Mom died all those years ago."

"They did? You're sure?" Dean asked, surprised by the sudden hope he felt when Sam said he wanted to come with him. He pushed it away. It wasn't important right now.

Sam wouldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"How do you know?"

"I just do, Dean." Sam said firmly, still not looking up. "You have to believe me."

"Alright." Dean said slowly. "Sam... this thing that killed your adopted family. It's a demon, I'm sure of it." Dean gestured to the side of him, where more of the yellow, nasty smelling sulfur was caked between a few of the floor tiles. "And, in all these years, nothing Dad or I ever saw or heard of since Mom kills like this thing. Whatever it is, I think it's one of a kind. "

"Dammitall." Sam muttered. He hauled himself to his feet in Dean's hand.

Dean had to force his hand to freeze at the strange feeling. The tiny boots were so light, they tickled when Sam shifted in place. His own _brother _was small enough to stand in his hand with plenty of room left over.

"Sam..." Dean could barely find the words he was searching for. "I'm sorry I never got to meet them."

A tiny smile quirked Sam's lips before fading again. "I don't think my dad would have wanted to meet you... but my mom... I think she would've given you a chance..."

Even that gentle reminder of how afraid Sam's family had been of him made Dean cringe inside, especially since they weren't wrong. He was dangerous to them. And to Sam. Just seeing Sam sitting in his hand, so small and so vulnerable compared to Dean, drove it home. Not to mention, if it hadn't been Sam he'd found in his room, anything could have happened. Dean didn't bother fooling himself. If he'd seen them as a threat, it would have been all over...

Sam angled his head up at Dean, blissfully unaware of the dark thoughts on Dean's mind. "By the way, what happened with the witch after I left?"

"She's gone," Dean said flatly. Then felt bad when Sam flinched away from him at his tone of voice. He had to remember Sam wasn't used to him yet, and the kid got fidgety practically every time he frowned. Seeing Sam still so afraid of him hurt, considering the last thing he'd ever do would be to hurt Sam in any way. Still, he couldn't blame Sam after everything he'd been put through. After all, Dean HAD almost crushed him just the other day. "She got away. I almost had her at the last second, 'cause she let her guard down. Went for her with a knife. She vanished. Just... POOF! Like nothing was ever there."

Sam scowled down at the hand he was standing on. "She'll get what she deserves," he spat out. "Whatever it takes."

Dean smirked in response. "You got that right, kid." Dean lowered his hand down, switching topics. They needed to move things along. He'd been in this room too long already. "Anything you want to bring with you? We should head out as fast as we can. Don't want our enemies knowing where we are. We need to be able to get the drop on them, not the other way around."

"Yeah, you're right." Sam said. "Dean... I..." He looked up at Dean, eyes starting to shine again with tears.

"I'm not going anywhere without you, Sam." Dean said softly. "Do what you have to."

He lowered his hand back down into the tiny home, keeping it steady for Sam. He could feel his brother still shaking slightly on his palm, either from bottled up anger or sadness. It was a full minute before Sam gathered himself enough to step off the palm, back into the tiny house. Dean kept his hand down there, not wanting to leave his Sammy alone for a second after everything that had happened. He wasn't about to lose his brother a second time. And Sam seemed to feel the same way as Dean about being left alone at the moment, not objecting to the huge limb taking up half the kitchen on its own.

Having his hand there, filling up most of the kitchen by itself, made the home seem smaller than it really was. Sam didn't seem to mind, though. He simply ducked under Dean's wrist or fingers if he needed to get by. On occasion he would attempt to push one of the thick fingers out of his way to reach items Dean was blocking by accident. Dean tried to help as much as possible by humoring Sam, moving his fingers out of the way when Sam indicated. At one point he accidentally bumped again a thimble sitting on a small block in there, spilling the water in it all over the tiny kitchen floor. Sam couldn't stop a small laugh from escaping him at the abashed look on Dean's face when it happened, despite everything else. And Dean couldn't help but be entertained by how assured Sam was around him now, after everything that had happened to him. He knew it would take more than that to truly gain back Sam's trust, but it was a start.

While Sam was going through stuff in the tiny kitchen, something caught Dean's eye. Reaching out with his free hand, he grabbed a tiny book out of what he assumed was Sam's room, considering it was the only room left perfectly intact. Why waste energy torching a room no one's in? The small binding was soft under his fingertips. Curious, he flipped open to a random page with his thumb, holding it as close to his eyes as he could, but discovered the writing was too small for him to read. Practically microscopic.

"Dude!"

Surprised out of his train of thought, Dean glanced back down into the tiny living area. Sam was glaring up at him, hands on his hips. "Don't you know to ask before reading someone's stuff?" Sam snipped.

"Sorry!" Dean said, amused at Sam's reaction. So his brother still had a backbone after all. "I was just wondering what it was... I've just never seen a book that small."

Sam snatched it back from Dean when he lowered it down. "It was from a dollhouse, I think. But it was the only book I've seen this size, I couldn't pass it up." He tucked it protectively in the satchel by his feet.

The next few minutes Dean just got to sit there and watch Sam grab whatever he thought he'd need, probably trying to hurry so he could get away from the scene of such a tragedy, clear reminders of what he'd lost. It was like watching a tiny Tasmanian devil at work. Sam tossed anything that didn't fit in his bag onto the hand that was still resting in the kitchen, Dean keeping it steady with the palm up for Sam. Clothing and other odds and ends went onto the palm, turning into a small pile. Some things were so little Dean couldn't truthfully make them out from where he was sitting, still towering over everything. For the first time in his life, he felt completely out of place. Like Godzilla at a baseball game. One wrong move and he'd knock everything flying.

Sam came to a stop after a few minutes, surveying everything sitting in Dean's palm. "There, that should be enough." He clambered into Dean's palm willingly.

Dean lifted him away from his home, checking over everything in his hand curiously. It all just seemed so small... it was hard to imagine that Sam and everything he owned could fit in the palm of his hand. Easily. A thought occurred to him while he was checking out the tiny possessions. "There's one thing you forgot."

Sam looked confused, squinting up at him. "What do you mean?"

Dean reached back into the home with his free hand, scooping up Sam's bed. "I can't imagine you'll be comfortable using a motel room bed. And anything else I could come up with wouldn't be the same as having your own bed."

Sam smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

Dean hauled himself to his feet, Sam clutching the fingers next to him for balance. Dean stuck the bed in his side jacket pocket for safekeeping.

They left the ruins of Sam's home behind them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

I am so so so soso sorry. I loved his little parents, they're so cute and adorable. And they'd do anything for Sam.

Dean will always be there for Sam, no matter what happens. And Sam needs him more than ever now, even if he won't admit it.

Brothers.

This was honestly a part that I knew would happen even before I started writing the story itself... When the story came to me one night, this was one of the foremost parts that I saw. And it makes me just as sad every time I read through it. It just wasn't meant to be...

One more chapter left to go after this...

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I love when I get messages from fanfiction telling me there's a new review.


	7. The End of the Beginning

Sam sized up everything he'd piled up in his brother's hand before deciding he was done packing. It wasn't like he was going to need any food now... he could live off whatever Dean came home with fine. So he could leave the stale crackers - all his family had at the time for food - behind. Though he didn't like the dependency it forced on him, it was far better than trying to start over here... living alone, or with a family he didn't know too well. Still avoiding humans as much as he could. At least this way, he'd have his brother with him, and out of all the people that had been in his life, he'd always depended on Dean the most when they were together.

Not to mention the fact that his brother was a human, and a very big one at that. Couldn't hurt to have someone with size on your side in a big and scary world. Even just seeing how huge Dean's hand was - just his hand! - in the remains of Sam's home took his breath away. Everything he had known for so many years was dwarfed by its presence, and it all seemed so much smaller now. The thought of actually having someone like that he could rely on was completely foreign to him.

He brushed the remaining ash off his hands. "There, that should be enough." He used Dean's thumb to pull himself onto his brother's palm. The added weight didn't faze Dean at all, as the hand lifted quickly away from the ground. The huge fingers cupped protectively around Sam and his possessions. Sam held his breath as the hand drew close to Dean's face, intensely sharp eyes examining everything Sam had tossed on. Being held there like that made him feel like he was sitting under a microscope. It was incredibly nerve-wracking. He clung to the thought that it was just Dean, and his brother would never hurt him.

His brother's brow furrowed at him after a moment. "There's one thing you forgot."

Sam squinted up at him, briefly confused. He couldn't think of anything else he could have grabbed, and he knew that house inside out. "What do you mean?"

Sam watched, slightly awed as his brother reached back down into his home, easily scooping up Sam's bed, which had survived the fire without being scorched. Covers, pillows and all came easily. "I can't imagine you'll be comfortable using a motel room bed. And anything else I could come up with wouldn't be the same as having your own bed."

Sam smiled gratefully. "Thanks." Watching Dean pick it up reminded him exactly how small he was now... his bed wasn't even remotely heavy to Dean. It hadn't occurred to him while he was packing, but it _would_ make things a lot easier. Sleeping on scraps of cloth or a giant bed wouldn't be anywhere near as comfortable as his own bed. Everything was happening too fast for him to be able to think it all through clearly.

Dean hauled himself to his feet without warning, standing to his full height. Sam was just along for the ride. He quickly grabbed onto the fingers near him to avoid tumbling off the hand. It happened so fast his head spun from the vertigo. His bed disappeared into the side pocket of Dean's jacket, barely even showing as a lump against his brother's body. Sam swallowed nervously at the sight. If only he could be normal again.

But no.

This was his life now. This _was_ normal for him.

He swallowed again.

Before Dean went any farther, Sam called up to him, practicality taking over. "Before we go, is there any way you could... cover up my house? So no one else can see it?"

Realization dawned in Dean's eyes. "Yeah, of course." He took the chunks of wood laying around the room's interior and placed them back on the house, blocking the tiny rooms from sight.

Sam nodded to himself, glad it was covered up. He didn't want to put any of the other families that lived there in danger. With any luck he could go warn them to take out any signs of his family's existence before the condition of the room was discovered. It was a good thing this was such a rarely used room. They would have time to make the tiny furnishings disappear.

His brother walked them both over to the door, going to open it with his free hand. Dean hesitated with his fingertips on the doorknob. "Uh, Sam. I hate to say this, but I don't think it's safe for you to be out in the open."

Sam tilted his head back so he could see Dean's face, so far above him. "What's your plan?" He asked nervously. It was one thing to _say_ you didn't mind being carried around by a human. It was another thing doing it. His fate was literally in Dean's hands right now, and nerves twisted his chest at the thought of not knowing what was going through Dean's head.

Dean's eyes flicked from the chest pocket on his shirt, back up to Sam. Sam's face fell. "No," he said.

"Dude, it's only for a few minutes. You'll be fine."

"Yeah, it's only for a few minutes _now,_ but then I'll have to do it again. And again."

"Do you have any better ideas, smartass?"

Sam scanned his brother's large form, searching hopefully for a better place to hide. "How about..." he said carefully, unsure how Dean would react to the suggestion, "your shoulder? I could use the jacket collar to duck under if anyone's coming. It's plenty high enough to hide behind."

Dean didn't seem overly happy with the idea, scowling slightly. "Yeah, but you're not exactly invisible here. What if someone spots you?"

"How many people are you expecting to run into when you walk back to your room?"

Dean sighed in exasperation._"Fine._ But anytime we're going to be around other people, you stay in the pocket. Deal?"

Sam grinned up at his brother, sticking out his good hand. He knew he'd won this round, and he wanted to make it as official as possible. "Deal." His brother's other hand approached, carefully pinching Sam's small hand between a finger and thumb to 'shake' on it. Sam was glad that Dean was willing to listen to him. It was reassuring to have some small control over his fate, even if it was just where he got to sit.

He was lifted carefully up to the shoulder, scrambling off as fast as he could. It was nicer than sitting in a hand. For one thing, hands got sweaty and clammy, especially when the person holding you was nervous. For another, knowing you were sitting in something that could easily close around you when you weren't prepared, something you had no control over, no way to stop, was continuously nerve-wracking. And almost being crushed by that same hand so recently didn't help. He trusted Dean, but there was a lot being thrown at Sam all at once. At least when he was sitting like this, he was a little bit more in control of his own fate.

Once on the shoulder, he peeked curiously over the edge of Dean's arm and blanched when he saw how high off the ground he was, with nothing to hold on too. Dean was _way _too tall! He quickly walked over to the collar, bracing himself against his brother's neck and pulling the edge of the jacket collar over him so he was blocked from view. As long as he was holding on like that, he wouldn't get thrown off as easily, plus he wanted to be seen by other humans as much as Dean wanted him to be seen. Which was, not at all. He could feel Dean tense up as soon as he leaned back, the skin growing tight beneath him. _Guess I'm not the only one who has a lot to get used to._

Dean put his hand on the doorknob again, still hesitating. "What's the matter?" Sam asked, curious. Surely he was plenty hidden now.

When his brother talked, it took everything in Sam to not jump away in surprise. The vibrations from him talking shook Sam to the bone. It was... weird. And unsettling. "I just... The witch was hiding as a maid. I want to check out one of the rooms she was supposed to be cleaning... when I saw the motel records there was one room she was cleaning that no one's stayed in for months. I just... I have this feeling. We gotta check it out."

Sam grinned at the way Dean automatically included him in the plan. "Sounds like a plan."

With that, Dean finally opened up the door, sunlight pouring over the both of them. Sam squinted in the sudden brightness, unprepared for it after so many years living inside. Once he could see again, he watched as his brother tucked the rest of his belongings into the other jacket pocket to free up both hands, just in case.

Sitting on a humans shoulder was a strange sensation. For one thing, he could feel every step Dean took. Along with every breath, and swallow the way he was leaning against Dean's neck. And, barely noticeable was a slight thudding against his back, which he realized was his brother's pulse. It was a lot to get used to all at once. During their short trip (short for Dean, it would probably have taken Sam a half hour, easy, to cover the same ground as Dean, if not longer) Sam concentrated on getting used to keeping his balance. The shoulder wasn't the most stable spot, swaying in time with Dean's rocking gait. It_had _to be better than a pocket, though. He hated the idea of being confined, unable to see his surroundings, unable to get out on his own. Trapped. At least this way, he could watch where they were going, even if he had no control over it. He didn't fool himself there - wherever Dean went, he was just along for the ride. And as long as he was here, he'd have to duck down if anyone was coming.

Dean reached the room he was thinking of quickly. Sam had to hold on tightly while his brother reached into the inside of his jacket, digging out a small tool. Once he unfolded it, Sam realized he recognized it. A lock pick.

He had just been learning the art of picking locks when he'd been cursed. Another part of his life that had been cut short. It only took Dean a few moments to break into the room, pushing open the door slowly. Dean carefully pulled out his handgun as he checked around the door. Neither of them could see anyone in the room, so Dean went in the rest of the way, flicking on the lights.

The room was practically barren. There was no sign of the witch who'd been there so recently. The only sign that anyone had ever been in there was sitting on the nightstand, next to the TV remote.

A small, dark hexbag.

Dean went over cautiously. Sam swallowed nervously as his brother approached, remembering what he'd learned about hexbags growing up, though he'd never been near one. Many weren't harmful, used for good luck or protection spells, but there were nasty hexbags. Those were often used to curse or kill someone, either by planting it in their room or on a person, or set to go off when touched.

He was startled from his thoughts when Dean reached up for him. Taking the hint, (and very, very glad Dean didn't just grab him) Sam stepped on the offered palm, finding himself quickly lowered down to the bed.

Dean seemed to sense his questions. "You've been through enough. If anything happens with this hexbag, it's going to happen to me."

"Dean, that's stupid." Sam scoffed. "You gonna take all the risks just because you're bigger than me now?"

Dean actually smirked at that. "No, I'm gonna take all the risks because I'm the oldest. Biggest is just a bonus, shorty."

Sam growled at that, unable to do anything about it from where he was. He had no choice but to watch as Dean cautiously picked up the bag, hefting it carefully when nothing apparent happened. He shared a worried glance with Sam. Past the stubbornly brave exterior, Sam could see his brother was nervous. Slowly as he could, Dean untied the thick leather strap wrapped around the bags opening. Sam was too low on the bed to see what his brother poured out of it, but he did see Dean's face turn white.

"Dean? What is it?" Sam marched closer to his towering brother, trying not to slip and fall on the bouncy bed. He wished Dean hadn't put him down so far away. Noticing his struggle, Dean sat down next to him on the bed, his weight tipping the ground beneath Sam into a steep incline. Sam barely caught his balance before he tumbled, bracing himself against Dean's thigh. Dean lowered his hand so Sam could see what he was holding.

A little boy was stretched out in the hand, carefully cushioned between the creases in Dean's skin. Sam felt his heart drop at how tiny the boy seemed, laying there like that. He couldn't be any longer than two,_maybe_ two and a half inches. The same size Sam had been all those years ago. So fragile compared to just the hand supporting him.

It was Sean. The little boy that had gone missing days before Dean had arrived.

Sam fearlessly jumped up onto the huge hand, bending down next to the small boy. Brushing his hair out of the way, Sam gently checked for a pulse. It was faint, but still going steady. "I think he's in a coma," Sam called up to his brother. "Like how I was when I was first cursed."

The bed dropped away from them as the hand lifted up higher. Dean carefully rotated the hand, taking in every detail. "But he's ok? Not hurt at all?" Worry painted his face from top to bottom.

"Hmm." Ignoring the hovering giant, Sam went through the basics he'd learned as a kid, checking for contusions, broken bones, anything obvious. The kid was breathing steadily. Nothing Sam did would wake him up though. He sat back at last with a sigh, leaning against the thumb behind him. "Yeah, aside from being knocked out, he's fine. Looks like she didn't hurt him at all."

"Good." Dean said, relief caking his tone. "She must have been in too much of a hurry after our fight to grab him again. Small favors," he muttered.

"We need to get him back to his family, see if we can reverse this before he wakes up." Getting no response from Dean, Sam craned his neck so he could look his brother in the eyes. Dean wouldn't meet his gaze, focusing on a point along the arm holding Sam and Sean. "Dean? What's wrong?"

Dean's forehead crinkled. "Sam... When the witch had me, after you left. She told me... she _enjoyed _telling me... this curse is irreversible." Hesitantly, he met Sam's gaze. "I was going to tell you, but later. After you recovered from everything you've been through these last few days. I didn't want to give you any more bad news."

Sam looked down at the small boy he was sitting next too. Saw how small Sean was, cushioned by his brother's soft palm. The little boy wasn't even as long as Dean's lifeline. The memories of how scary everything had been when he first woke up like this came flooding back, memories from when he'd first realized his dad and his brother had left him... As long as Sean was with Sam and Dean he was safe, but... as much as Sam hated to admit it... "We can't bring him back to his family like this, can we?" To his surprise, he found himself blinking back tears. After all their work, the story still had the same ending as the last time.

"It wouldn't be a good idea, no." Dean seemed to slump down in exhaustion. "People don't react well to the supernatural in general, and this poor kid... he's defenseless. Just like you were all those years ago. Plus, there's no way they can possibly meet all his needs... what if he gets sick, or breaks a bone? Takes a walk at night and no one sees him? At least you're old enough to take care of yourself, but Sean..."

Sam blew his bangs away from his eyes. "Well, then I guess we have no choice."

Confused, Dean arched his eyebrows at his brother.

* * *

><p>Krissy jumped when a knocking came from her front door. As far as she knew, none of her family were expecting any visitors, especially after the news they'd received less than a half hour ago.<p>

The Watch family had been murdered, the floor ripped up in great swaths to get at them. Home burned, ash everywhere... nothing remained of the bodies at all. No trace could be found of them. And no one had seen their son since early on in the morning. No one knew if he was still alive, or had died with his family.

So now, runners were out to warn every other family that lived in the motel to be careful, don't go out, be careful, be _safe_. If someone could find one family, they could find any. Hers was hopefully a little safer, embedded under the floorboards with a huge wooden dresser directly over the home. She shivered at the thought of the ceiling being ripped away, her family torn from her... her little brother gone forever…

It hadn't helped that only five minutes ago, she'd heard footsteps in the room above. Huge, thudding steps that shook the small room around her. The food on the countertop had rattled, one chip falling off and breaking into smaller pieces on the ground. The footsteps had stopped for the moment, but somehow she knew the human was still out there.

Waiting.

She shivered.

Cautiously, she pushed the block of wood she had covering the entrance to her home. She gasped when she saw who was standing there. "Sam!" She gasped, shocked. She almost ran to him, but froze in place when she saw what he had in his arms. "What's going on, Sam?" She said carefully. "We all thought you were..."

He smiled sadly when she trailed off. "I almost was." He admitted. "But... someone saved me. Can I come in?"

"Yes, yes! Of course!" She moved out of his way, hastening over to the cushions they had set up in the living room. She cleared a place for him to put the little boy. "Sam, what's going on? Who is he?"

Sam gently placed the boy down on the cushioned seat, brushing the hair from his eyes gently before leaving him to rest. He took a seat in the kitchen with her. "It's a long story, and I don't have time for much. Krissy, you're going to have to trust me. This boy... do you remember when my parents adopted me?"

"Yes, of course. It was right after they lost their daughter. Poor dear, what she went through. But they never mentioned where they found you or anything. You just showed up one day out the blue."

Sam took a deep breath, preparing himself for her reaction. "Krissy, my parents found me in a human room, right after they saw me shrink from human down to this." He held out his arms. "A curse."

Krissy gasped, backing away from him. "Wh-What?" She cried out. "You can't be!"

He gently grabbed her arm, before she got too far away. "It's ok, you know. You've known me for years. Do you really think I'd hurt you after all the time we spent together?" She shivered at the contact, but stopped backing away. Knowing he was a human... nothing changed, yet at the same time everything changed.

"So, long story short, Mallory decided they'd raise me as their own. And so I've lived like this for most of my life." He held her gaze. "I wish I didn't have to tell you all this, but there's no other way, and no more time. About a half hour ago, my brother and I found this little boy," he gestured at the kid knocked out on the cushions. "He was hit with the same curse as I was all those years ago. It's irreversible. He will never be what he was again." Sam smiled sadly. "He'll wake up soon and have no idea what's going on, and no way to protect himself. No family, no friends. Just like me all those years ago."

Sam turned his eyes back to her. Those large, dewy hazels that had always secretly made her melt inside whenever she looked into them. She'd never told him about that. _And now I probably never will,_ she thought to herself sadly, knowing it was the truth. Same size as her or not, everyone knew humans were dangerous. "What do you mean 'your brother?' You don't _have_ a brother."

This time he broke away from her gaze. "That's not important right now. What is important is this kid... Sean needs a home. Someone to help him adjust, help him live like this. He'll never be able to see his family again... He needs someone like you, Krissy."

She sucked in a deep breath, in shock._"Me?_ What can I do for him?"

Sam smiled. "You remind me so much of Mallory, how she always thought of others, how she was so good to me all these years. You're perfect for Sean. And you'll have your family to help you." He closed his eyes. "And Krissy, you'll need to have someone clear out my family's home of everything, fast. So no one discovers everyone living here. The one who burnt it down and killed my parents shouldn't be coming back." At the very least, he and Dean had put a line of salt around the inside of the tiny home, just in case. So no one else would get hurt because of him.

The floor creaked over their heads. Krissy froze in fear, but Sam stayed perfectly relaxed. After all - as much as it made Sam want to jump out of his skin, knowing a human was above them - it was only Dean, shifting in place where Sam had left him. He was patiently waiting for Sam to finish up with Sean. Sam knew as long as Dean was up there, they were both perfectly safe and protected.

Krissy wouldn't see it the same way, though.

She recovered from her scare, talking in a hushed voice. The last thing she wanted was for a human to overhear them down there. "Of course, but... but what about you? Won't you need that stuff to live?"

"No... I... I have to leave." He hauled himself up out of the chair. "Keep whatever you want, I won't need it anymore."

"Sam, no. Wait. Slow down a minute."

He glanced over his shoulder, meeting her in the eyes. She'd never forget the pain etched on his face in that all too short moment.

"I'm sorry."

He left.

* * *

><p>Celeste watched the black Impala pull out of the parking lot, tires screeching the moment it hit the road. The hunter hadn't even noticed her when he'd walked by. Her new glamour was working beautifully to be able to disguise her from one so used to dealing with the supernatural.<p>

Shaded by the overhanging roof, she stooped to fiddle with the baby carriage in front of her, keeping up with her disguise. Her now short brown hair wafted in front of her face. One day soon, she would be able to get rid of the one named Dean. His usefulness was almost at an end. And as for little Sammy...

So far, it was all going according to plan. The boy was out in the world, instead of holed up in a crappy little nowhere motel, wasting his time hiding from humans and trying to survive. And if he was with his brother, he'd be exposed to hunters, monsters, demons...

Perfect.

She smiled.

* * *

><p>Dean sat behind the wheel of the Impala, finally leaving the little, middle-of-nowhere town behind. In that small, unimportant town that was so easily forgotten, everything had changed in his life. He smiled, drumming his fingers against the wheel to the beat of the music. Despite everything that had happened, he felt good. For the first time in a long time.<p>

Probably the first time since losing Sam.

"Hey, Sam?"

He could feel his brother tense up against his neck whenever he spoke. Dean had tilted the rearview mirror so that he could see where Sam was when he was driving along with the back window. Sam sat up grumpily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He'd been asleep almost the whole trip so far. "Yeah?" Sam asked groggily.

"We're gonna find the bastard that did this to our families. No matter what. And... I just wanted to say, I'm glad you came with me. I know it must have been hard, leaving everything you knew behind."

For a few minutes, Sam didn't respond. He gazed out the car window, lost in thought. His eyes were blank of any emotion. "Not as hard as you think." He blinked owlishly. "Without my family, I didn't have much left there."

"Sam, you need to know, I'll find a way to break this curse. No matter what she said, there's always a way. We'll figure it out."

Sam punched him in the neck. It barely tingled. Dean gave a small laugh as Sam went on. "Don't go all maudlin on me now, man. I'm happy the way I am."

Dean smirked at the tiny punch. He'd have to come up with a way to get back at Sam. He'd just have to be extra inventive with his four inch tall brother. He couldn't do anything _too_ intense. "Whatever, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam grabbed the edge of the jacket collar, flopping down on the shoulder. He pulled the collar over himself for warmth, practically disappearing from view. If Dean couldn't feel the tiny body lying there, a slight and nearly unnoticeable pressure against his neck, he wouldn't believe Sam was there himself. Hell, he barely believed he was there, anyway.

Sam had been sleeping a lot since leaving the motel. Probably his way of coping with the loss of his adopted family. Dean would just have to make sure Sam always knew he was there for him. No matter what came.

To the lyrics of _Highway to Hell,_ the Impala left that town in her dust.

_"...No stop signs,  
>Speed limit,<br>Nothings gonna slow me down..."_

_**FIN**_

**._..or is it?_**

* * *

><p>And here we are. The ending.<p>

And if you're wondering why the ending is so open... is it's not really an ending. This was just the first part of Borrower!Sam's story... there's plenty more to come, starting next week. I never had any intention of this being a standalone story... I've been developing a whole new AU. And, there are many things in store for the brothers... good times, bad times... friends, family... Sam's out in a dangerous new world, with only his brother, who he hasn't seen for over ten years, to help him adjust.

So, next week the adventures of Borrower!Sam continue with a new case... new enemies... but always his brother by his side.

All comments and reviews greatly appreciated... plus, anything you're hoping to see in the future from Borrower!Sam? I have many plans in the works already ;)


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